


Dirty Little Secret

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Flogging, Hand Jobs, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When someone threatens Harry’s life, Kingsley decides to send him to a safe house with only Draco Malfoy for company.  As the two men are forced together, memories of the past resurface and secrets are discovered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Little Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmoretteHD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmoretteHD/gifts).



> **Warnings:** References to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder  
>  **Content/Enticements:** BDSM related kink, development of a D/s relationship  
>  **Author's Notes:** Dearest Mari, I do hope you enjoy this! I loved your requests and I tried to incorporate everything that I could into the piece. Thanks so much to N for all your help and to A for the final beta read

**St. Mungo’s – 1998**

“Is there anything that can be done for my son?” 

“Naturally. All of these things can be carefully managed, and I am sure he will recover. It’s clear he has suffered during the war and time can be a great healer in that regard.” The Healer scribbled a couple of notes and handed the parchment to Narcissa. “I suggest he take small doses of this, in the first instance. If he needs to increase the dosage from time to time you must contact me immediately. These things must be carefully regulated. If this doesn’t help, I suggest we treat him in house at the Janus Thickey ward. It sounds as though much of his distress is linked to the Malfoy family home.”

“I see.” Narcissa looked at the parchment and back to where Draco slept restlessly. “I must ask you to do one thing for me.”

“If I can.” The Healer looked up from her notes and Narcissa turned back to meet her eyes.

“Do not disclose any of this to my husband.”

“Client confidentiality would restrict me from doing so in any event. Draco is no longer a minor, and I am only allowed to tell you this information because your son has consented to your presence here.”

“Very well.” Narcissa clutched the parchment to her chest, closing her eyes. “Very well.”

* * *

**Ministry of Magic - 2008**

“Oh bloody hell, not again.” Harry groaned and pushed the parchment away. The writing was scrawled and messy and had been written in a deep red ink, no doubt intended to look like blood.

_I’m going to kill you, Harry Potter_

Harry wasn’t unused to death threats, but this was the fifth letter written in the same hand that he had received over the last month. He knew it was time to speak to Kingsley.

He made his way to Kingsley’s office and knocked on the door, pushing it open when Kingsley indicated he should come in. 

“There’s been another letter. The fifth this month.” Harry put the parchment down on Kingsley’s desk and sat in the seat opposite. “What do you think?”

“I think we need to start taking this one more seriously.” Kingsley waved his wand over the letter and sighed when it produced no obvious answer. “Somebody tried to break into your office last night – we don’t know who.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Harry glared and folded his arms. “I’m not about to go off half-cocked trying to track down the person all by myself, you know.”

“No?” Kingsley smiled at Harry. “It wouldn’t exactly be the first time. In any event – they were unsuccessful.”

“How did you find out?” Harry decided not to fight his corner because he suspected he would have lost. Kingsley wasn’t exactly off the mark in suggesting Harry liked to throw himself head first into these things.

“There were signs of forced entry in Weasley’s office. He raised the alarm and we checked all of the offices on Level Two. Only his office and yours showed signs of forced entry.”

“Then Ron’s in danger too?” Harry frowned and Kingsley shook his head.

“We don’t believe he is. Your name is still on the door from when you two were partnered. I think it was simply a mistake. Clearly someone who isn’t familiar with the layout of the Ministry.”

“What’s next?” Harry clutched his wand in his pocket and Kingsley held up his hand, giving Harry a look.

“You go about your business and keep your wits about you. I need to give this some thought.”

“Wits about me. Right you are. See you tomorrow.” 

Harry left the room and returned to his office. He gathered his things together and pulled on his cloak before locking up for the day, taking extra care after Kingsley’s news.

It was time to talk to Ron.

* * *

Harry’s plan to come out to Ron didn’t exactly go as smoothly as he would have liked. On the plus side, he didn’t try to do anything barmy like snog Ron, but by the time they got to talking about more personal matters, Harry was already three sheets to the wind and not at his most articulate.

“I like blokes.” Somewhere around the seventh pint, Harry blurted out his confession and held his breath. 

Ron blinked. “I’ve been shagging Parkinson.”

“ _Pansy_ Parkinson?” Harry boggled at Ron.

“ _Blokes_?” Ron countered.

“Fair enough.” Harry drained his drink. “She’s probably improved a bit since school.”

“Not a lot.” Ron winced and gestured to the bar. “We need more booze.”

“Yes.” Harry pushed his empty pint glass towards Ron and nodded firmly. “We do.”

Harry’s night ended with a rousing chorus of _My Old Man’s A Muggle_. He fell asleep fully clothed, and found his dreams filled with disturbing images of Ron and Pansy. 

In the morning, when he woke with a pounding head and an unsettled stomach, it occurred to Harry that he hadn’t even broached the other topic he wanted to discuss with Ron.

Harry wasn’t too bothered. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to talk about _that_.

* * *

“I hear you prefer men. Hermione likes that.” Percy made the observation as if he was talking about the weather and earned himself a light punch on the arm from Hermione.

“Hush, you.”

“What does he mean, you like it?” Harry’s eyes narrowed and he watched Hermione flush at his words.

“She likes to write about men having sex. Sometimes three or four, if the mood strikes.” Percy glared when Hermione punched him again, harder this time, and hissed at him to shut the bloody hell up.

“Why do you write about that?” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and wondered if Hermione knew more about gay sex than he did. He supposed he shouldn’t feel too bad even if she did – Hermione knew about everything. 

“No particular reason. Don’t worry, Harry. I do my research.” Hermione coughed and averted her gaze. 

Harry wondered fleetingly if Hermione knew anything about the sort of things which made Harry hot with shame when he allowed himself to dwell on his darkest thoughts. He suspected not, and he had no intention of raising it with Percy sitting there and looking at Harry with an edge of trepidation, as if he half expected to find himself fending off an impromptu advance later in the evening.

“Did you hear Draco Malfoy started work at the Ministry last week? There’s been a real kerfuffle about it,” Hermione continued.

“Another Malfoy at the Ministry.” Percy shook his head and sighed. “I know Kingsley is having Kneazles about the whole thing. I’m sure he’s a good worker, but the name still makes people think twice. I think they’ll try to keep him out of the spotlight to the extent possible.”

“Hang on.” Harry held up his hand and tried to process his thoughts. “Don’t change the subject.”

“You noticed I was doing that?” Hermione laughed. “It’s nothing to worry about, Harry. Although I might have a few questions for you once you start getting into it.”

“Getting _into_ it?” 

“In a manner of speaking.” Hermione waved her hand dismissively and Percy grimaced. “You can borrow some of my books if you like.”

“No, I wouldn’t bloody well like, thanks all the same.” Harry huffed and settled back while Hermione and Percy began to talk about Malfoy.

Before Harry left for the evening, Hermione caught up with him at the door and handed him a small bag.

“Just in case you change your mind, I’ve put some books in here. I think you might find them of interest. I’m sorry about Percy, I’m trying to educate him.” 

“He’s not the first and by no means the worst. Dawlish had a few choice comments when the news came out.” Harry winced at his choice of words. “I didn’t expect people to be bothered by it. I don’t care who anyone else shags, it shouldn’t matter.”

“You’re having trouble with work?” Hermione frowned and folded her arms. “That’s disgraceful.”

“It’s not exactly trouble, just a few jokes at my expense.” Harry groaned and gave Hermione a pleading look. “Please don’t start a campaign. I don’t want any kind of fuss made, I’d just like to get on with my life.”

“Well if you’re sure…” Hermione looked as if she might already be planning something.

“Quite sure. I mean it. I appreciate the help, but the last thing I want is to generate more press attention.”

“Alright,” Hermione agreed. She kissed Harry and the cheek and shooed him off. “Owl when you’re back.”

“Will do.” Harry heard the pile of books topple inside the tiny bag Hermione had given him, and rolled his eyes, chuckling despite himself. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Anytime.”

With that, Harry made his way home. After scrawling a quick owl to Hermione and Percy, he began to read.

* * *

The curses flew above Harry’s head, criss-crossing together. He ducked and raced behind one of the buildings for cover.

“Routine bloody operation, Kingsley said!” Ron turned and ducked away from another curse, casting one back quickly, his face muddied and damp with perspiration. “What the bloody fuck is this?”

“I think it’s called an ambush, mate.” Harry sent his own spell whizzing off into the night sky and whooped when it caught one of the attackers, who Apparated with a pop. “Dunno how they knew our location.”

“They shouldn’t be here. It’s Death Eaters. I’m sure I saw Yaxley.” With another shout, Ron cast a hex and the night sky fizzed and crackled with magic. “Watch your back, Harry.”

“You too!” Harry ran from his shelter, rolling onto the ground and casting another couple of hexes before ducking behind a large oak tree.

“Harry Potter! Just give us Harry Potter.” The sound of manic laughter came to the left of Harry and he cast a curse in the direction of the voice. He didn’t have a chance to see if his spell had hit the target before with a couple of additional cracks of magic, everything went still.

“Looks like they were after you.” Ron met Harry when he walked back into the open space and grinned at him. “Again.”

“Weasley, Potter – get over here!”

Harry moved swiftly to where Savage was standing to see Neville stretched out on the floor. His arm was torn and bloody and his face was pale.

“Neville – bloody hell, is he alright?”

“We can fix it. He was caught by friendly fire – it’s not going to be permanent.” Savage gripped onto Neville and prepared to Apparate. “It’s not safe having you here, Potter – it puts us all at risk.”

“Williamson’s back at the Ministry. Kingsley sent his Patronus. He’s Splinched himself.” Dawlish approached and clapped Harry on the shoulder, looking at him with sympathy. “I don’t mean to talk out of school but John’s right. Until the people that want you dead are locked up, even the most routine operation becomes absolute bloody carnage.”

After Dawlish and Savage left, Harry looked at Ron and winced at the serious look on his face. “They’re not going to let me fight anymore, are they?”

Ron squeezed Harry’s shoulder. “I dunno mate.”

* * *

“Potter.” Malfoy’s face twisted into a grimace as he looked up from his books. The research library in the Ministry was quiet and dark, most people having left for the day. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure.” Harry tapped his finger to his lips and looked pointedly at the shelves filled with books. “It’s a total mystery. Merlin forbid I might actually be looking for something to read.”

“Shut up.” Malfoy looked back at his book and his fingers whitened as he gripped it more tightly. “I hear you’ve been getting yourself into trouble again.”

“If by ‘getting myself into trouble’ you mean someone has been trying to kill me – again – yes, that’s what I’ve been doing.” 

“Why is it always _you_ , Potter?” Malfoy glared at Harry, his eyes glinting in the dark shadows of the room. “I’m not sure what makes you so damned special.”

“Just lucky, I suppose,” Harry replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. 

“I would have thought people would have better things to do,” Malfoy muttered. “Besides, you’re in the wrong section. The Quidditch almanacs are up the stairs, last row on the left.”

“Wonderful, I’ll have to remember that.” Harry rolled his eyes and traced his fingers over the spines of the books until he found the one he was looking for. “What are you reading?”

“None of your business.” Malfoy shut his book with a glare and flicked his wand to send the book out of sight before Harry could catch the title. “I was trying to get some peace and quiet.”

“Don’t worry – I have what I need. I’ll leave you to it.” Harry waved his book at Malfoy and turned to leave.

“Potter?” 

“What?” Harry looked over his shoulder to see Malfoy giving him a strange look. Malfoy looked smaller than usual surrounded by bookcases that stretched high into the air, sitting at a large table designed for a group of colleagues working together rather than one solitary reader.

“Be careful. There’s something queer going on.”

“Very funny.” Harry set his lips in a thin line and a look of confusion flickered across Malfoy’s face.

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“No?” Harry watched Malfoy for a sign of a sneer or a cruel taunt and sighed when Malfoy remained still, his face tight and pinched. “Right then. Thanks.”

“Bugger off.” With a glare at Harry, Malfoy reached into his book and pulled out his book again. 

Harry wondered if Malfoy came here every night. The way he had startled when Harry approached made him think Malfoy must be used to coming here long after most of those interested in using the library had left. As he made his way to the exit, Harry wondered how late Malfoy stayed at the Ministry out of working hours, and why he wouldn’t race home at the first available opportunity like most of the other Ministry employees. 

Before Harry left, he cast one final look at Malfoy.

Malfoy was hunched over the large tome, his shoulders tense and the expression on his face impossible to read.

* * *

Harry trudged into Kingsley’s office at three o’clock that morning. His hands were covered with Williamson’s blood and another practice run had been ambushed, with hexes and curses aimed at the gathered Aurors. Harry’s suggestion that the attacks had nothing to do with him hadn’t been helped by the fact the attackers had – yet again – called for Harry to be delivered into their charge.

The Aurors had fought back valiantly and easily outnumbered their attackers, but Williamson had been left severely injured.

“Will he be alright?”

“I believe so.” Kingsley looked up from his papers. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit.” Harry dropped the parchment he had discovered in his office down on Kingsley’s desk. “There’s another one of those notes too.”

“I see.” Kingsley looked at the note and rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry, Harry, but this ends here. I can’t put my men and women at risk anymore, as much as it pains me to take you off the field.”

“I knew that was coming.” Harry swallowed and he stuffed his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t have to look at somebody else’s blood. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“Don’t worry – I’ll come up with something.” Kingsley looked tired and he turned the parchment over in his hands. “Come and see me tomorrow afternoon. By then I should have had time to get everything in place.”

“Everything in place?”

“Tomorrow,” Kingsley repeated.

With more than a little trepidation, Harry made his way home.

* * *

The next afternoon, Harry knocked on the door to Kingsley’s office. He took a seat and waited for Kingsley to finish writing and start telling him what was going on.

“You know we have to take you out of the field for a while?”

“I expected as much.” As much as it pained him, Harry understood Kingsley’s reasons. “Office work for a bit, then?”

“I don’t think that’s going to keep anyone safe either.” Kingsley grimaced and sat back in his chair, finally dropping down his quill. “You’re an obvious target and people seem to know how to reach you. I’m sending you to a safe house.”

“Oh bloody hell.” Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Is that really necessary?”

“I’m afraid so.” Kingsley paused before continuing. “I have decided that someone will go with you for extra protection.”

Harry didn’t like Kingsley’s tone and he looked up, warily. “Who?”

“Draco Malfoy.” Kingsley looked around the room at everything but Harry, no doubt awaiting the inevitable fall out from his suggestion.

“Someone’s trying to kill me and you’re sending Malfoy to keep me safe?” Harry stared at Kingsley to wait for him to burst out laughing, but Kingsley continued to look deadly serious. “Are you sure you’re not the one trying to bump me off?”

“Hardly.” Kingsley rolled his eyes. “Truth of the matter is, we’ve been keeping the details of certain missions away from Malfoy. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t had him out on the field of late. I knew there was a mole in the team and frankly he seemed like the logical suspect.”

“Malfoy’s a prat but he’s hardly a criminal mastermind.” Harry snorted and drummed his fingers on the table until Kingsley glared at him to stop. “I still don’t see why he has to be the one looking after me. Surely Ron would be a better choice?”

“Malfoy’s the only one I can send.” Kingsley looked displeased by the thought. “He’s the only one in the team who hasn’t been aware of the operations which have come under attack. By default, he’s innocent. I need Weasley here with me because he’s the only other person I can definitely trust.” 

“Not to mention you don’t want to spend time with Malfoy?” Harry glared at Kingsley. “Well I don’t particularly want to live with him. Give me Ron and you have Malfoy – better yet, let me fight my own bloody battles instead of hiding me away in a cottage somewhere in the Outer Hebrides.”

“I wasn’t thinking that remote, exactly.” Kingsley’s lips twitched. “Weasley stays with me. I can’t rule out the possibility that someone has been able to control him through Imperius or otherwise.”

“Bollocks. You know bloody well that Ron isn’t behind this any more than Malfoy.” Harry sighed,  
sure this particular battle was lost. “So why can’t I stay? I don’t see how shipping me off is meant to keep me safe.”

“It’s to keep my team safe as much as to keep you out of harm’s way. When they’re keeping an eye on you, no one is keeping a proper eye on each other. It’s too dangerous for all concerned. Just give me time, Harry.”

“How long?” 

“A month. Maybe more.”

“But it’s nearly Christmas.” Harry looked gloomily at Kingsley’s calendar and watched Viktor Krum holding the Snitch aloft and zooming in and out of the picture, a Santa’s hat perched on his head.

“I’m sorry, Harry. As soon as we have got to the bottom of this, everything will be back to normal. Just keep your wits about you.”

“I can’t contact anyone?” Harry frowned and looked at his hands, unable to look at Kingsley.

“You will have contact with your Secret Keeper, and that’s all.”

“I’m pretty familiar with Secret Keepers, thanks.” Harry glared at Kingsley and folded his arms. “I also know they can be pretty bloody rubbish at keeping secrets. Who is it?”

“An ally.”

“Well that’s reassuring.” Harry snorted. “What happens next?”

“Your Secret Keeper will be in touch with you and Malfoy this evening by owl, then you will both be bound by Fidelius. When you have the location, you’re to pack your things and leave, quickly and quietly. We want minimal fuss.”

“How are you going to make sure the others are kept safe? I can’t imagine people will believe Ron and Hermione don’t know where I am.”

“We’re working on that. We’ll make sure all the details are ironed out before you go.” Kingsley looked sympathetic. “I really am sorry. This is the only option.”

Harry racked his brains to try to think of another alternative, but the idea of putting the people he loved in danger was enough to stop him protesting further. He had to concede that Kingsley’s option of hiding him away for a bit was as good a solution as anything, despite the fact every bone in his body screamed to be allowed to fight off whoever – or whatever – had been responsible for the attacks.

“I could go by myself. I don’t see why I need babysitting.”

“I know you, Harry.” Kingsley gave him a fond smile. “You would be crawling up the walls within a week. Not to mention there’s safety in numbers. You and Malfoy might actually make a good team – I think you both have different attributes you can bring to the table if you find you’re in a position of having to protect yourselves.”

“He’d hand me over to save his own skin, you mean?” Harry stood, quite sure the debate was over. “If you don’t mind, I’m taking tomorrow off. I plan to get pissed with my friends tonight, while I still can.”

“Consider it a day of compassionate leave.” Kingsley smiled apologetically. “I will be in touch over the weekend with the final details.”

“Right then. I’ll speak to you soon.” His stomach in knots, Harry left Kingsley’s office and leaned back against the door when it closed behind him.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed Malfoy was seated on one of the armchairs in the waiting area. He glanced up at Harry and his hands twisted in his lap while he sat stiffly, waiting to be called into Kingsley’s office. He looked nervous and uncertain. With a grimace, Harry gave Malfoy a curt nod and left him to it, walking along the dark corridors to Level Two. If Malfoy looked worried now, he could only imagine how the conversation with Kingsley was going to go.

“Everything alright, mate?” Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder and grimaced when he saw the expression on Harry’s face. “Right, then – let’s get you a drink.”

“Make mine a double Firewhisky. We’d Better get Neville, Seamus, Ginny and Luna out too, and Hermione and Percy if they’re about.” With a sigh, Harry followed Ron through the Floo, his mind filled with images of a small cottage on a cliff in the middle of nowhere.

* * *

“Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Harry crossed his legs and sat gloomily at the fire, watching Kingsley’s face flickering in the hot embers. “Where exactly is this place, anyway?”

“No idea,” Kingsley responded, cheerfully. “You should get an owl soon enough.”

“Brilliant.” Harry huffed. “What did Malfoy say?”

“He was thrilled, naturally.” Kingsley’s smile widened. “You’re not going to kill each other, I hope?”

“You’ll probably find our bodies after Christmas. I don’t think this is one of your best ideas. Why can’t this ally of ours be the one to come and stay with me? Anyone has to be better than Malfoy.”

“Not quite.” Kingsley laughed again, as if he knew a delightful secret. “I think you would thank me for sending Malfoy rather than your Secret Keeper. Besides, he has other business to be carrying on with. We can’t afford to take him out of service.”

“What exactly is his business?”

“This and that. He undertakes research and supplies the Ministry and St. Mungo’s with potions.” Kingsley shifted in the flames and changed the subject. “You should find everything you need. I understand the place has been well-stocked with food, drinks and everything you can’t use magic to conjure. There are plenty of blankets in case you find the place too cold given the weather, and the Secret Keeper has had their house-elf stock the property with all the necessary items you might require day to day. You don’t need to take anything with you other than a few personal items, your owl and your clothes. Your wand too, of course. If you require any further supplies, your Secret Keeper has agreed to send an owl from time to time.”

“Of course. Can we fire call?”

“I’m afraid not. The property isn’t on the Floo Network for obvious reasons. In the event of an emergency send your Patronus to your Secret Keeper’s address, or to me or Weasley. Do not, under any circumstances, send it to anyone else in the Auror corps. We still don’t know who our informant might be and you could be unwittingly revealing your location to an enemy.”

“And there’s no chance of Christmas at the Burrow?”

“Out of the question. The Ministry will be releasing a statement to say you have gone into hiding with one of our Ministry officials. There’s no possibility of your coming out of hiding until it is safe to do so – particularly not to go somewhere everybody would naturally expect you to be. We need to be mindful of the safety of those close to you. We will be ensuring the message is communicated such that whoever is doing this knows you won’t have access to any Wizarding news. That will keep those who are close to you out of harm’s way in the meantime.”

“I suppose that’s for the best.” Harry swallowed as he thought about leaving everything behind, already feeling lonely and miserable. “I’ll wait for the owl, then.”

“Good lad. We’ll try to get you back in the ranks as soon as we can. Merry Christmas.” With another flicker of flames, Kingsley disappeared.

Harry gathered everything he needed into his bag. He copied Hermione’s trick of stuffing everything into a tiny space, and he packed a couple of the books she had given him. He pulled the box from under his bed, which held his invisibility cloak, photos, one of Sirius’ jackets and a couple of other trinkets he had collected. He put the precious items carefully into the bag along with the books. 

He retrieved the stack of magazines he had purchased from a shop in Knockturn under the guise of one of the junior Aurors, after his third attempt at brewing Polyjuice. He flicked through the pages of the magazines, stopping at the pictures of the men bound in leather harnesses, and swallowed at the way they always made him feel – needy and wanting, and hot with shame and arousal.

Before he could dwell too long on the thoughts the pictures and articles gave rise to, he pushed the magazines into the bag with the rest of his things. He opened the window when he heard a persistent pecking, letting in an irritable looking owl.

“Come on, then. Tell me where I’m going.”

The owl nipped Harry’s fingers and dropped down its letter, accepting the treat Harry gave him with a soft _hoo_ of thanks.

_Potter,_

_The coordinates of the safe house are set out at the bottom of this owl. You will – I am quite sure – be happy to learn that you are to spend the next few weeks by the sea in Cornwall. However, this is not a holiday. You are not there to enjoy yourself, simply to keep yourself out of trouble if such a thing is even possible._

_If you should find you require my assistance, please do think twice before contacting me. I am a busy man and I will not be appreciative of inane correspondence asking me for the latest Quidditch results or insisting I supply you with chocolate frogs._

_If we find that we should need to correspond at any length, I would prefer Mr. Malfoy to write the owls. His grasp of the English language is markedly better than yours, and he has a decidedly less irritating turn of phrase._

_Sincerely,_

_S._

“Right, then. I suppose I’m off to Cornwall.” Harry scribbled out a note of receipt and gave it to the owl, watching as it flew off into the distance.

* * *

Harry was the first to arrive at the small cottage in Cornwall. From the location of the property, which appeared to be perched on the edge of a looming cliff-face, it might as well have been the Outer Hebrides after all. There were no local shops, no nearby pubs or restaurants and the only sound for miles around was the relentless crashing of the waves against the shore.

“Sometimes I really hate you, Potter.” Malfoy pushed past Harry, his lips pursed into a thin line. He rattled the door, before opening it with a muttered curse and an _Alohomora_ , glaring at the house as the door creaked open. “Not only do I have to stay in this hovel over the holidays, but I also have to stay with _you_.”

“It’s not exactly how I expected to spend Christmas either, Malfoy.” Harry stepped into the house and looked around. Although the exterior had been less than promising, the interior could have been a lot worse. Somebody had lit the fires already, and the house had a cosy feel to it. From a quick check of the cupboards, they seemed to be well-stocked with goods which would be unlikely to perish and their unknown ‘ally’ had indicated deliveries of fresh foodstuffs would be sent on a weekly basis, which should be kept chilled with charms and magic. The house clearly had no electricity, which given it was a Ministry-owned property was of little surprise to Harry, although he would have been grateful for a television to give himself something to do other than watch Malfoy scowl at him from across the room.

“Who lives like this?” Malfoy sounded aggravated and Harry turned to see him glaring. “You do know there’s only one bedroom? The other might as well be a broom cupboard.”

“If Kingsley’s sent us to a place with only one bed, I’m going to resign.” Harry made his way upstairs to see one large master bedroom and a second small but perfectly adequate spare room. He heaved a sigh of relief and dropped his bags down in the smaller of the two rooms. “This is fine for me. You take the other one.”

“I tend to forget you’re an orphan.” Malfoy had followed Harry into the room and shifted out of Harry’s reach before he could punch him in the nose. “I know why you were in a snit the other day in the library.”

“I wasn’t in a snit. Was I?” Confused, Harry waited for Malfoy to continue.

“When I said there was something _queer_ going on.” Malfoy’s lips pulled into a slow smile. “I overheard Savage saying he was pleased he hadn’t been assigned to go into hiding with you because you’d probably try to bugger him when he was sleeping.”

“Savage said _what_?” Harry gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to hit something. “That bloody shit. I’d sooner bugger a Hippogriff.”

“That’s disgusting.” Malfoy wrinkled his nose. “I had no idea you like a bit of wand play for what it’s worth. I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about the Boy Wonder’s sex life.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Harry snorted and began to unpack his bag. “I’m used to Dawlish and Savage taking the piss, but the people that matter to me couldn’t care less. That’s what’s important to me.” He turned to Malfoy and pulled a face. “Do you think I’m going to lose control of myself and make improper advances too, then?”

“Hardly.” Malfoy looked horrified at the thought. “I don’t give a fuck who you sleep with. You’re not the first person to realise they’re a pouf, Potter. It doesn’t make you _special_.”

“I never said it did!” Harry’s eyes narrowed as he watched Malfoy. “You too, then?”

“My father was furious.” Malfoy sounded almost gleeful and he smiled brightly for the first time since they had arrived in Cornwall. “Mother seemed to take it in her stride, but father used to follow me when I went out in the evenings. He thought I didn’t know, but I did.” Malfoy’s smile faltered and his voice took on a cold edge, his eyes gleaming. “He stopped after a while. I don’t believe he liked what he saw.”

“I see.” Harry swallowed and tried to imagine how that must have been for Malfoy and how far his relationship with his father must have deteriorated since the war. “I never knew.”

“Well I don’t exactly shout it from the rooftops. You can imagine the reaction you have had being multiplied in my case after father’s role in the war. There are plenty of Muggles who are more than happy to let me enjoy their company, should I wish.”

“You’re experienced, then?” Harry’s cheeks heated and he turned back to his bag, busying himself unpacking his things. 

“I suppose.” Malfoy sounded bored and Harry could hear him picking up items as Harry placed them down. “This photo – I assume it’s your parents? Your father’s hair was every bit as hopeless as your own.”

“It was.” Harry surprised himself by laughing at Malfoy’s peculiar observation. “I look like my dad but have my mother’s eyes. If I had a Knut for every time I’d heard that, I would be a rich man.”

“You’re not exactly impoverished as it is, from what I hear.” Malfoy let out a soft snort and placed the photograph down. 

“No, I suppose I’m not.” Harry shrugged and pushed his bag under the bed when everything was finally in place. “Not as filthy rich as you, mind.”

“Clearly.” Malfoy smirked and folded his arms. “Is that all you have?”

“What else do I need?” Harry looked around the room, his brow furrowed. His cheeks heated as he thought about the magazines he had managed to shrink down to fit in his bag, pleased he had placed them in a separate compartment so they had gone unnoticed. Malfoy might share his preferences for men, but he sincerely doubted the revelation of his _other_ interests would be approved by anyone.

“This is going to be hideous.” Malfoy huffed as if Harry’s lack of possessions irritated him. “I’m going to unpack.”

When Harry turned to ask Malfoy what he wanted for dinner, the room was empty.

* * *

“At least the Ministry provided some decent food.” Malfoy pushed his plate away when he finished his dinner. Although Harry could cook the Muggle way, he was relieved that the cupboards were well-stocked with food which simply needed heating, as he didn’t much fancy becoming Malfoy’s house-elf.

“Kingsley probably doesn’t want to risk me leaving the house just to get my next meal.” Harry polished off the rest of his plate. He gathered Malfoy’s plate together with his own and took them into the kitchen.

“What do we do now?” Malfoy followed and watched Harry as he tidied up without offering to help. He sounded petulant, as if Harry should be thinking of things to do to entertain him. “This house is too small.”

“Tell me about it,” Harry muttered. “Didn’t you bring any books with you? We can ask our Secret Keeper if you want anything in particular.”

“I have plenty of books.” Malfoy sniffed and furrowed his brow. “Who _is_ the Secret Keeper?”

“An ally, apparently. It’s all Kingsley would say. If I need to contact them I just send an owl to an address in the North of England. I don’t know any more than that, other than he sounds like a right miserable arse.”

“Can we make fire calls?”

“No, the house isn’t on the Floo Network.” Harry dried the crockery and rummaged through the cupboards. “Cup of tea?”

“Are there any biscuits?” Malfoy sounded hopeful and Harry nodded.

“In the cupboard to your left. There’s a selection.”

Malfoy rustled around behind Harry as he finished tidying and making the tea, and when they were ready they made their way into the living room with two steaming mugs and a plate piled high with a selection of sweet treats.

“What would you usually be doing now?” Malfoy bit into a particularly chocolaty biscuit and contemplated Harry thoughtfully.

“Merlin only knows. Going for a beer with Ron, probably.”

“Weasley.” Malfoy snorted as if the name offended him. “He’s not as adverse to Slytherins as he used to pretend to be.”

“I don’t think he was pretending.” Harry wondered how much Malfoy knew. “Are you still in contact with Pansy?”

“Here and there.” Malfoy shrugged and glared at Harry. “She asks me for advice on her ludicrous relationship with your pal. I’ve taken to avoiding her calls. The very last thing I want to discuss is Weasley sex.”

“That’s enough information, thanks.” Harry held up his hand before Malfoy could launch into any specifics. “She must have other people to turn to?”

“She’s not very popular after threatening to hand you over to the Dark Lord. I’m surprised Weasley would forget that.”

“I doubt he’s forgotten.” Harry bristled and spoke up in Ron’s defence. “People change, I know that and so does he – I trust his judgment.”

“You’re so noble.” Malfoy rolled his eyes and stood. “I’m going to get my book.”

“Fine.” Harry shrugged and stood to rummage through some of the drawers in the room to see what he could find. He found a battered set of Muggle cards and began to deal out a hand of Solitaire, which he had taught himself over many long summers at the Dursleys when he had tried to avoid them as much as possible.

They sat together in an almost companionable silence, before Malfoy indicated he was going to bed.

Looking at the empty place left by Malfoy, Harry listened to him move about upstairs. When he was quite sure Malfoy had settled, he followed afterwards. Malfoy’s bedroom door had been left ajar, and Harry could see numerous decorative additions that Malfoy had made to the room. Next to Malfoy’s bed was a small glass bottle, filled with golden liquid, which illuminated the spot by Malfoy’s bed with an eerie glow.

Shaking himself, Harry continued swiftly towards his own room and got himself ready for bed. He found himself staring at the ceiling and listening to Malfoy’s quiet snores before he finally attempted to sleep.

* * *

It was well after midnight when Harry gave up any hope of getting a decent night’s sleep. From the sound of snoring across the landing it seemed as though Malfoy was having no difficulty whatsoever and the thought made him strangely angry. With a huff, Harry locked his bedroom door to ensure he wouldn’t be rudely interrupted and took his magazines from his drawer. Just as he used to do when he studied at the Dursleys, he used his wand to cast a low light in the room and began to flip through the pages.

One of the pages depicted a scene with a strong looking man tipping back the head of a smaller man, a gloved hand resting lightly underneath his chin. The man on his knees bent his head back willingly, his eyes covered with a satin blindfold and his lips parted by a red ball, fastened in place with a black leather gag. There was nothing at all explicit about the scene, but nevertheless it sent a rush of arousal through Harry. He pictured himself with his own hand underneath someone’s chin, while his faceless partner trusted him implicitly to bring every kind of filthy pleasure Harry could come up with.

He flipped the page and stifled a moan. The scene was far more explicit, showing in intimate detail the smaller man on the previous page bent over and exposed to the camera, while the other man pushed a large toy inside him. They shared combined looks of pleasure and the taller man’s hand gripped into the hair of the other, holding him in place. Harry’s cock twitched with appreciation and he dropped his hand beneath the duvet. With a gulp, feeling even worse about this than he usually did with Malfoy snoring a couple of doors down, he gripped his cock firmly.

He found one of the other magazines he liked the best, where the height disparity between the two men was nothing at all and began to stroke himself more firmly. He closed his eyes and settled back on the pillows, allowing himself to fantasise in a way he very often couldn’t. The duvets were too heavy and he threw them off to give himself more freedom. He reached for his lubricant and groaned softly at the feeling of his own hand slick and tight around his aching cock.

He slid his hand over his length and imagined having somebody he could trust with all of this. He thought about coming home from the Ministry to find a man bound and waiting for him, asking Harry to take him. He imagined the look in his partner’s eyes when he bound them to the bed and teased them with his tongue, his fingers and toys. He thought about leather harnesses, cuffs and collars, and stroked himself more quickly as he imagined what it would feel like to do some of the things he had only ever imagined. 

With a strangled sound he came to completion and spilled over his hand. He steadied his breathing and cast a quick cleaning charm, the familiar shame overwhelming him once his pleasure dissipated. 

As he put his magazines back in the desk drawer, Harry realised that the snoring from across the hall had stopped. Apart from a light creaking sound outside his bedroom door, the house was completely still.

* * *

It took Harry a while to get accustomed to living with someone else but he and Malfoy quickly fell into a routine of sorts. He realised it was no longer appropriate to wander downstairs in his pyjama bottoms to make his coffee in the mornings when he saw Malfoy at the breakfast table, smartly dressed with his hair damp and neatly combed. Malfoy tended to rise first, and he would use the bathroom before Harry, who waited until Malfoy finished. He would shower and dress, passing Malfoy without a word and they would sit together over breakfast with occasional sniping at one another until the caffeine kicked in and their moods improved.

A week after they had moved into the cottage, Harry waited outside the door to the bathroom, which Malfoy had left open while he finished brushing his teeth.

“Why do you take that?” Harry watched Malfoy uncork a small golden phial and tip the contents down his throat.

“Have you been watching me?” Malfoy turned to Harry and spat his words out, hurrying to dispose of the phial with a flick of his wand. “Why are you _everywhere_ , Potter?”

“I’m just waiting to use the bathroom. Take as many hair replenishing potions as you like, Malfoy. See if I care.” Harry rolled his eyes and pushed his way into the bathroom. The spicy scent of Malfoy’s cologne indicated he at least had the foresight to bring his own items for washing, rather than relying on their ‘ally’ who had a strange taste in soap.

“It’s none of your business what I take. Just because we’re forced to live together, it doesn’t mean you have any business delving into my private life.” Malfoy’s cheeks were flushed.

“Calm down – I won’t ask again.” Harry held his hands up in a gesture of defence, and Malfoy left with an angry curse, slamming the door behind him.

With a sigh, Harry stripped off and stood under the warm water, trying to let it soothe his aching muscles and not particularly looking forward to what he suspected would be another long day.

* * *

“You’ve been reading that book for over a week.” Harry arched his eyebrow at Malfoy who had his head buried in a large hardback with a complicated Latin title. “What is it?”

“None of your business.” Malfoy shut the book and put down his quill, settling back in his seat. He had taken to reading at the small desk in the living room, rather than curling up on the sofa as Harry preferred. “Are you playing that infantile game again?”

“It’s not infantile.” Harry glared at Malfoy and gathered his cards together. “It’s fun.”

“I don’t understand the point of playing a game against yourself. Where’s the fun if you don’t have someone to beat?”

“It’s relaxing.” Harry shrugged and shuffled the cards. “I’ll teach you something competitive if you want. It might make the evenings pass more quickly.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” Malfoy pursed his lips. After a moment, he settled in the armchair opposite Harry and picked up the cribbage board Harry had found tucked away in one of the cupboards. “What’s this?”

“A cribbage board. It can take a while to get into, but it’s fun once you know how to play.” 

“Get on with it, then.”

“I intend to.” Harry dealt the cards and began to explain the rules.

* * *

“It’s not exactly chess, is it?” After a number of false starts, lots of sniping and finally a couple of good games, Malfoy dropped his cards on the table.

“I like it.” Harry dropped his own cards down and gestured to the cupboards. “There’s a chess board there too, if you prefer. I’m not brilliant, but I can hold my own.”

“Perhaps we can do that tomorrow.” Malfoy stood and reached for Harry’s glass. “Wine?”

“Might as well.” When Malfoy left the room, he picked up the book Malfoy had been reading. His brow furrowed as he saw the text inside was not at all what he had expected. Instead of the high-brow material he had been expecting, given the sheaf of the book, the text looked to be about something entirely divorced from the title and the cover. Harry turned the book over in his hands and murmured a _Revelio_. 

The book shivered in his hands and the dark leather-bound covers gave way to a paperback with two men on the front, engaged in some frantic snogging. One man was topless, with his shirt pushed down around his waist and the second wore only a Muggle tie. It looked a lot like the kind of books Hermione wrote.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

“Nothing!” Harry dropped the book and turned to face Malfoy. 

“You were snooping. I never gave you permission to touch my things.” Malfoy’s cheeks flushed. He pushed past Harry and shoved his book into the desk drawer. “I bet you plan to have fun with this, Potter. You have no _right_.”

“I just don’t know why you bothered to hide it.” Harry held up his hands and backed away from Malfoy who advanced towards him with his wand outstretched. “It’s just a bit of fun and it’s not as though I don’t know you like other men.”

“My private life is private. My reading material is private and my personal space is private! At least it was until you invaded it. You’re always lurking around and asking questions, trying to make me tell you things I have no interest in discussing with you. We’re not friends. We’ll never be friends. I hate you so much I can’t stand it.”

“It’s only a damn book – a romance or whatever it was – I don’t know why you care so much.” Harry found his voice rising in response to Malfoy’s accusatory remarks, even though he suspected that would only make things worse.

“But that’s not even the point.” Malfoy’s lips curled and he lowered his wand, defeated. “You were never supposed to know. You’re not supposed to know what I read in my own time, how long I spend in the shower or if I take potions that have nothing to do with you. I just want you to leave me alone. I don’t want you to know _anything_ more about me than you have to.”

Harry tried to steady his breathing and glared at Malfoy. “Well I don’t particular want to spend my holidays with you either. Perhaps we should just keep out of each other’s way from now on?”

Malfoy gave Harry a curt nod and then with a muttered curse, he left the room. Harry waited until he heard Malfoy’s bedroom door shut with a slam, before gloomily making his way upstairs.

* * *

They passed several days avoiding one another as best they could. When Harry made breakfast, Malfoy would wait until he had finished and would only come downstairs when Harry had retired to his room again. Harry found himself spending less time in the shared living spaces and taking his food up to his bedroom. He would sit in the small space and read or play cards, missing even the unflattering comments he was used to from Malfoy. He rapidly came to the realisation that some company was better than none, and his time in his room reminded him of his holidays with the Dursleys. He was lonely, and more than a little bit miserable.

Even when they used charms to heat the little cottage, it still felt cold in the evenings. Harry had taken to having a bath before dinner, both to relax and to get out of his room for a period. That night, Harry settled down into the warm water and closed his eyes, thinking about approaching Malfoy again and insisting they talk. The room smelled strongly of lavender which seemed to be the only scented product available to them, bottled in delicate glass phials and labelled in a familiar hand which Harry couldn’t quite place – clearly their Secret Keeper was entertained by the idea of making Harry smell like Ron’s Great Aunt for the next month.

He finished his bath and stepped out, drying himself quickly. Feeling somewhat cheered and more relaxed than he had some time, he made his way downstairs and prepared to speak with Malfoy. 

“Have you finished?”

“Just about. What’s the problem?” Harry found Malfoy already waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a cross expression on his face.

“I found those magazines of yours.” Malfoy folded his arms, his cheeks pink. “You’re a pervert.”

“You _found_ my magazines?” Harry managed to keep his voice steady, despite his rapid heartbeat. “They were in my bedroom in the desk drawer, not left out on the coffee table. You mean you snooped through my private things and found something you were never meant to see.”

“I thought it was only fair to see what your reading material was as you took so much pleasure in discovering mine. Not that I ever expected _that_.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” Harry knew his voice sounded hollow. His head span with idea of his secret – his precious secret – revealed without his consent to someone he would never have trusted with such intimate details of his desires.

“It’s disgusting.” Malfoy sneered and shifted in his place. “I always knew you had dark secrets, Potter. Who would have thought you craved humiliation and buggery? I suppose I should have known you were something of a masochist.”

“I must be if I’m still here listening to you.” Despite his efforts to sound unaffected by Malfoy’s words, Harry’s voice trembled and he swallowed at the thought of what the press might say if they ever got hold of his secret. “What are you going to do?”

“Dress you up in leather and make you bark like a puppy dog.” Malfoy smirked, his expression gleeful. “It’s what you want, isn’t it? Maybe I should start putting your food on the floor before I give you a good whipping and have you wander about the place on a leash?”

“Oh shut up, Malfoy.” Fury coiled in Harry’s stomach and he clenched his hands tightly by his sides. Now that his secret had been discovered he supposed he might as well tell the whole truth, and his fears and desires spilled from him in a rush of angry words. “If you must know I fantasise about being on the other side of things, so what does that make me now? A sadist, like your precious bloody Dark Lord, I suppose. You have no idea who I am and what I want – no bloody idea at all.”

“I’d like to see you try whipping anyone. You’d probably start sobbing halfway through.” Malfoy gave Harry a withering glare. “I honestly don’t think I can think of anyone more ill-suited to sadism than you, Potter. I suppose I can believe you want people to call you ‘sir’ – I imagine you think you deserve it.”

“I don’t think I deserve anything, you bloody prat. I don’t want to hurt people.” Harry’s voice raised and he paused to steady himself, wondering who he was trying to convince. “I don’t want to cause someone pain if they don’t want it, that’s not what this is about.”

“Perhaps not.” Malfoy eyed Harry and shrugged. “But you _do_ want to cause some kind of pain. You get your kicks out of it, and you can’t tell me those magazines are all about a playful spanking. It’s depraved - _you’re_ depraved.”

“And you’re a nosy git and a bloody idiot.” With a low growl, Harry turned on his heel. He was halfway up the stairs when Malfoy called his name.

“I have a suggestion, in case you need some wank fodder. I liked the one with the anal fisting. That was particularly delightful.”

“Fuck off, Malfoy!” Harry’s eyes stung and his face heated with fury. He slammed his bedroom door as loudly as he could and flopped onto his bed, burying his face in the pillow. “Just fuck _off_.”

* * *

“Tell me more about these magazines of yours.”

Harry had managed to avoid Malfoy again for another day or two, which was no mean feat given the size of the cottage. Finally, when he had caught the scent of something delicious coming from the kitchen and was thoroughly bored of being alone, he had made his way downstairs and taken a seat at the table, studiously ignoring Malfoy. 

“I’d rather not, thanks.” Harry rolled his eyes and topped up his wine. “What’s got you so interested, anyway?”

“You’re so _dull_ , Potter. I’m just intrigued by the fact that the Boy Wonder has such a propensity for filthy porn.”

“And you’re so happy to talk to me about your romance novels, I suppose?”

“Piss off.” Malfoy bristled and then smiled. “Besides, they’re nothing compared to the sort of things you read. I couldn’t give a damn about them anymore – not now I know you have secrets of your own.”

“They’re just magazines,” Harry replied, tightly. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a few kinky fantasies of your own, Malfoy.”

“Not quite in the same league as yours.” Malfoy sniffed and swirled his wine in his glass, eyeing Harry. “So you really want to dress some bloke up as your _pet_ and wander him around on a leash? You’re such an arrogant arse.”

“I’m not arrogant, and I don’t want _some bloke_.” Harry leaned forward, thinking there really wasn’t enough wine in the world for this kind of conversation. “I want to find someone who gets it – someone who doesn’t make fun of me.”

“And what? You’ll reward their loyalty with a good thrashing?” Malfoy snorted and rolled his eyes. “Honestly, it’s barbaric.”

“And yet we’re still talking about it.” Harry sighed and drained his wine. “I don’t need your approval, thanks all the same. What I get up to in my private life is my business. It’s nothing to do with you.”

“How much of that stuff have you got up to?” Malfoy studied Harry and he felt his cheeks heat.

“Not a lot.”

“Nope. Didn’t think so.” Malfoy stood and moved around to stand behind Harry. He dipped his head and leaned in so close his lips nearly touched Harry’s ear. “You’re far too _good_ to put any of it into practice.”

Harry pushed his chair back with enough force to send it clattering on the floor. With one final glare at Malfoy, he left the room and returned to the sanctum of his bedroom, Malfoy’s words turning over in his head.

* * *

The next day, Harry decided to use magic on his desk drawer to make sure Malfoy couldn’t get in there anymore. He flipped through the magazines and pulled a face, wondering what Malfoy must have thought of the pictures of men kneeling in leather harnesses, their backsides red from flogging or striped with the marks of a cane. He pushed the magazines into the drawer with a frown. He couldn’t be positive, but he was sure at least one was missing from the collection. Having not had any real outlet to experience his desires, Harry had become pretty familiar with the pictures in each of the glossy publications, and he was quite sure that his set was no longer complete.

“Malfoy?” He closed the desk drawer and pocketed his wand.

“What?”

When Harry found him, Malfoy had just stepped from the bathroom. He looked nervous and edgy and couldn’t seem to look Harry in the eye.

“Everything alright?” His magazines forgotten, Harry eyed Malfoy warily.

“Not really. I’m not feeling very well.” Malfoy’s face looked paler than usual and his forehead dotted with a light sheen of perspiration. “I should go back to bed.”

As Malfoy moved forwards, Harry noticed his eyes close and stepped forward in a hurry to keep Malfoy upright.

“Malfoy? Can you hear me?” Harry held Malfoy close to him and smelt his usual spicy cologne and the persistent scent of peppermint, which was always strongest in the mornings. He helped Malfoy as best he could and settled him down into bed.

“Potter…I might have known you’d try to get me into bed at some point.” Malfoy’s eyes stayed closed and his lips twitched into a small smile. 

“Don’t start.” Harry brushed Malfoy’s hair from his forehead. He pressed his hand to Malfoy’s clammy skin and frowned. “We need to get some help.”

“It’s nothing, just a fever.” Malfoy’s words sounded slurred and he turned his head to the side. “Can you get me one of my potions? The silver, not the gold. In the cupboard, second shelf from the top.”

Harry opened up the cupboard and found an array of the same, small, golden phials. Each one was unmarked, giving no indication of its purpose. He uncorked the potion and sniffed it, the smell of peppermint stronger than ever. He put it back carefully and reached for one of the silver bottles, which didn’t carry any scent at all. He settled back onto the bed and helped Malfoy up, tipping the potion down his throat and making sure he drank every drop.

“Now what?”

“Now you let me sleep.” Malfoy turned on his side and tugged the duvets up around his ears, indicating their discussion was over.

* * *

“How’re you feeling?” Harry looked up when Malfoy came downstairs the next morning.

“Like I’ve been hit over the head with a Bludger, thanks for asking.” Malfoy looked at the stove. “Is there breakfast?”

“I made bacon sandwiches. There’s plenty left.” Harry passed the plate of bacon and the freshly cut bread to Malfoy and watched him eat. “You’re going to have to tell me what you take those potions for, you know.”

“Why?” Malfoy stopped eating for a moment and looked up at Harry with a frown.

“Because I didn’t know what was wrong with you yesterday and I have to know if I should contact someone if it happens again.”

“You shouldn’t, and it won’t.” Malfoy continued to eat again as if the discussion was over.

“I’m serious, Malfoy. You don’t have to tell me everything, but I deserve some sort of explanation.”

“You deserve it?” Malfoy shook his head and continued to chew slowly. “I don’t know how you’ve reached that conclusion.”

“All I’m asking for is an answer – believe it or not, I was worried about you.” Harry gritted his teeth to avoid yelling. “Besides. It’s not as if you don’t have anything on me.”

“That’s very true.” Malfoy smiled as if the memory pleased him and finished his sandwich. He wiped his mouth delicately and then glared at Harry. “I don’t want this getting out, Potter.”

“I’m locked away in a remote cottage with you – I’m not sure who you think I’m going to tell.”

“The press?”

“Of course.” Harry snorted. “That sounds like just the sort of thing I’d do. Not to mention you have a story of your own which I don’t particularly want the press to know either.”

Malfoy smirked and poured himself a coffee. “And what a story that would be. Hard core porn and a leather fetish. Who would have thought?”

“We’re not talking about me.” Harry scowled, the same rush of shame he always felt when the thought about his magazines overwhelming him. 

“I suppose we’re not,” Malfoy conceded. 

“So?”

“Fine.” Malfoy looked disgruntled and took his time before responding. “The gold potion is a variation on the Elixir to Induce Eurphoria. After the war, I was not in a terribly good place.”

“I remember you left for a while.” Harry thought back to the articles published after the war, a number of which referenced Malfoy’s travels around Europe.

“I didn’t exactly leave.” Malfoy averted his gaze and clasped his hands on the table. “I was seeing someone at Janus Thickey.”

“I see.” Harry swallowed and he pressed as gently as he could. “Why?”

“Because of the war. Insomnia. Night terrors.” Malfoy shrugged and continued to look at his hands. “I thought I was going mad, and so did mother. She told father I was taking a break abroad, travelling. He never knew. She thought he might not approve.”

“Your father wouldn’t approve of you being sick?” Harry felt a rush of anger. “That makes no sense.”

“You don’t know father.” Malfoy’s face twisted and he finally met Harry’s eyes. “He doesn’t approve of weakness. I think mother was concerned he might try more traditional methods to cure me. I stayed for six months, and left much improved. I went back again a year later, for the same period of time and I haven’t had to go back in there since.”

“And the potions?”

“They give me a lift of sorts.” Malfoy grimaced. “I might have overdone things. The silver potion counteracts the effects of the Elixir. That’s what you gave me yesterday.”

“I see.” Harry had the strangest desire to reach for Malfoy and pushed that alarming thought to the back of his mind. “Have things been worse since you’ve been here or something?”

“Things haven’t exactly been better.” Malfoy didn’t elaborate and his response caused Harry more worry than it probably should.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Such as?” Malfoy arched an eyebrow at Harry. “It’s not your fault I’m stuck here, remembering the war.” 

“There must be something…” Harry trailed off when Malfoy glared at him.

“Stop worrying. I just took a few too many potions in an attempt to seem more together. It had the opposite effect. It won’t happen again.”

“Is that why you’ve been so shirty with me?” Harry wondered aloud, and Malfoy laughed breaking the tension between them.

“No – I’ve been like that with you because you’re infuriating.”

“Well I’m glad we cleared that up.” Harry looked at Malfoy curiously. “What would happen if you stopped taking the potions altogether?”

“I’d probably kill you.” Malfoy sipped his coffee and smirked at Harry. “Or I might just have a few nightmares again. I don’t know any better than you, Potter.”

“Do you need help monitoring how much you take?” Harry blurted out his words and Malfoy’s hands clenched.

“Are you saying I can’t be trusted?”

“No. I just thought it might help.”

“It wouldn’t.” Malfoy frowned and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I hope you’re not going to bring this up all the time. I don’t have any desire to be asked how I’m feeling over breakfast.”

“I’ll try not to be too nosy.” Harry laughed at Malfoy’s disbelieving expression and held up his hands in a gesture of defence. “You’ve got me all wrong.”

“Have I?” Malfoy sounded amused. 

“Just a bit.” Harry leaned against the door before leaving the room and took one last look back at Malfoy. “I’m going to shower.”

“Try not to use all the hot water.”

Harry watched Malfoy smile for a moment longer and then took the stairs two at a time, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

* * *

“I’m sick of you telling me I’m a pervert.” Harry topped up Malfoy’s glass after they had finished their evening meal. “It’s your turn to share.”

“I thought that’s exactly what I did this morning?”

“You know what I mean – share your filthy fantasies.” Harry winked at Malfoy. “It will make things less boring, at least.”

“Why on earth would I agree to that?” Malfoy wrinkled his nose and hid his face by taking another sip of his wine.

“Because I’m asking you to – and because we don’t have a lot else to talk about.” 

“If I do – and I’m not saying I will – are you going to tell me more about your magazines?”

“If you like. Tit for tat, I suppose.” Harry grinned at the way Malfoy eyed him warily. 

Malfoy seemed to be struggling with himself and then he gave Harry a curt nod. “Go on then.”

“We’ve established you like blokes.” 

“Yes. Not blokes that are complete perverts though, for the avoidance of doubt.”

“Thanks for the clarification.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Has there been anyone serious?”

“Salazar, no.” Malfoy looked horrified by the thought. “I might fuck Muggles, but I’m hardly going let it go further than that.” 

“Why haven’t you considered doing those things with other wizards, then?” 

“Things?” Malfoy arched his eyebrow. “Can’t you talk about sex like an adult, Potter?”

“Fine.” Harry gritted his teeth. “Why haven’t you considered fucking another wizard – or letting them fuck you?”

“I’ve considered it.” Malfoy smirked into his wine glass and took a careful sip. “There’s not exactly a lot of choice.” Malfoy’s smile faltered. “You must have noticed the sort of reaction you’ve had and you’re a war hero. Besides – it’s been easier with Muggles. No strings, no history.”

“Do you have people you see more than once?” Harry found once he had started asking questions he couldn’t stop and he wondered if this is what people meant when they talked about living vicariously through someone else.

“From time to time. On my terms.” Malfoy’s looked smug. “What I don’t understand is why you haven’t done any of those kinky things you seem to like so much. I would have thought plenty of star-struck wizards would offer their backsides up for Harry Potter’s hand.”

“You’re a total arse.” Harry huffed and glared at Malfoy. “I told you, I don’t just want anyone and definitely not someone who’s only with me because of my stupid scar.”

“It _is_ a stupid scar,” Malfoy agreed. “Besides, I still think you’d be rubbish at it.”

“At what, exactly?” Harry hated the fact his cheeks flushed with heat under Malfoy’s gaze as he suddenly became aware of how close they had shifted together.

“At dominating anyone.” Malfoy leaned closer, his eyes glinting. “I don’t think you’d have the first idea how to make those dirty dreams of yours a reality.” 

“You don’t know anything about what I could do.” Harry stumbled over his words, causing Malfoy to laugh – a taunting, gleeful sound.

“Don’t I?” 

Just when Harry began to move back to put some distance between them, Malfoy reached for him. He gripped his hand into Harry’s hair and pulled him close, their lips connecting with force. Harry lifted his hands to push Malfoy away but found his traitorous body tug Malfoy closer as his hands tangled in Malfoy’s shirt. Malfoy controlled the kiss with ease, pushing against Harry and fighting him with every breath. The kiss shifted – hot, desperate and open mouthed as Harry grappled with Malfoy to regain control. Every nerve in his body responded to Malfoy’s touch and he found his mind filled with thoughts of the men in his magazines, replacing the bound, gagged man with _Malfoy_ , his cock hardening at the very thought of it.

“Malfoy…” Harry broke the kiss first and pulled back panting, a tremor in his voice.

“Just as I thought. Not a _clue_.” Malfoy’s lips were plump and dark, his expression unreadable in the low light in the room. He insinuated his hand between them and squeezed Harry’s cock, drawing a deep groan from Harry’s lips. “Look at you, Potter.” Malfoy removed his hand with a sneer. “About to come in your pants just from a kiss. There’s no doubt who’s in charge now, is there?”

“Fuck you.” Harry spoke quietly, his voice low and furious.

“I’d like to see you try.” Malfoy’s smug look returned and he stood, moving to the door. “Night, Potter.” He winked and gave Harry a strange smile. “Sweet dreams.”

The door slammed behind Malfoy and Harry sat back in the sofa, raising his hand to his lips and staring at the fire, hoping that maybe the night had just been a very bad dream.

* * *

By the time Harry woke after a fitful night’s sleep, Malfoy was already up. He had settled into place in the kitchen and appeared to have found some Muggle newspapers, which he had spread out on the table as he ate his toast. Harry hated the fact that the sight of Malfoy made his palms clammy and his heartbeat quicken. Anger coiled in his stomach as he noticed how Malfoy looked calm and refreshed, as if he had slept easily after last night’s debacle.

“Morning.” Malfoy didn’t look up from his papers. “I’ll have another coffee if you’re making one.”

“I’m not,” Harry responded, tightly. He made sure to make as much noise as possible, pouring himself some juice and sitting at the table. His stomach growled and he tried to ignore the fact he could have murdered a coffee.

“Bad night?” Malfoy feigned innocence and flicked through his papers. “I slept like a log.”

“I’m sure you did.” Harry clenched his hand into a fist and counted to ten.

“It was just a kiss, Potter.” Malfoy rolled his eyes and stood. “You’re no fun.”

“You have no idea, do you?” Harry slammed his glass down and got to his feet. “No bloody fucking _idea_.”

“I rather thought you were the one with no idea. After last night’s little experiment.” Malfoy smiled and looked as if butter wouldn’t melt. “I was simply trying to show you it takes a certain kind of person to make someone fall to their knees. You’re not the right sort.”

“Am I not?” Harry growled low in his throat and advanced towards Malfoy. “Who would you say _is_ the right sort? Perhaps one of your Muggle idiots who fuck you against a wall in the middle of London, or maybe someone who likes Dark magic, someone taller or stronger or less _good_.” Harry drew a shaky breath and pressed close to Malfoy. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“Partially.” Malfoy’s voice didn’t sound as smooth as it previously had and he stepped back until his body connected with the wall. “You need to be a bit creative, ruthless, in control. You’re just a stuttering virgin who practically comes after a heated kiss.”

“You’re wrong.” Harry kept his voice steady and saw the challenge in Malfoy’s eyes.

“Am I?”

Harry pressed Malfoy hard against the wall and captured his lips in a kiss. The kiss wasn’t what Harry had expected. He had half thought Malfoy might shove him away and start making jokes at Harry’s expense. He had wondered if Malfoy might try to kiss him back hard and take charge of things again. What he hadn’t expected was for Malfoy to make the most delicious sound against his lips, as if this was the kind of kiss Malfoy had wanted all along. He hadn’t expected Malfoy to kiss back just as Harry liked, with a firm, confident touch, but one which yielded willingly under his own. He certainly hadn’t expected Malfoy to press closer to him, deepening the kiss and wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck as if he was having just as much fun as Harry himself.

With a low groan, Harry pulled back to move his lips along the curve of Malfoy’s neck. He thought about how Malfoy would look on his knees, his cheeks flushed and eager as Harry slid his cock into his mouth until it hit the back of Malfoy’s throat. The thought made him bite down on Malfoy’s neck, which elicited a ragged moan from Malfoy who scratched his hands down Harry’s back and pulled him closer.

Harry insinuated his thigh between Malfoy’s legs and pressed up against Malfoy’s cock. He grunted when he heard Malfoy pant and gasp beneath his touch and kissed him again, hard and demanding. 

“Do you trust me?” Harry asked, his lips pressed to Malfoy’s.

“You’re irrepressibly noble, Potter.” Malfoy’s voice sounded thick and rough as he responded. “That means _yes_.”

“Then put your hands above your head.” Despite the fact his cock was pressing against his trousers in the most uncomfortable way, Harry managed to keep his voice steady and gruff.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“ _Do it_.” Harry responded with a firm command and Malfoy raised his hands above his head. With a murmured _Incarcerous_ , Harry bound Malfoy’s hands to the wall. He kissed Malfoy again and slipped his hands over Malfoy’s sides, grinding against him and biting back a moan when Malfoy responded by rocking against his thigh.

“What are you going to do?” Malfoy sounded breathless and nervous all at one.

“Nothing – nothing but kiss you.” With a groan, Harry captured Malfoy’s lips again and felt him arch up against him. He plucked open the buttons of Malfoy’s shirt and revealed the almost translucent lines of his slim body. He kissed along the curve of Malfoy’s throat and flicked his tongue over his nipples, enjoying the reaction he elicited with his touch.

He didn’t move lower than Malfoy’s belly and instead teased him with flicks of his tongue and little nips at Malfoy’s skin with his teeth. He watched every movement and listened for every groan and gasp of breath, noting that Malfoy seemed to be particularly sensitive around his nipples and taking each one in turn between his teeth. 

“I’m not a virgin, Potter. You _can_ touch my cock.” Malfoy sounded amused, if not less sure of himself than usual.

“Not this morning. Besides, who’s in charge?”

“You, you infuriating bastard.” With a groan, Malfoy turned his head and offered his neck for more kissing, which Harry took his time over until their lips met once again in another forceful kiss. 

Harry’s pressed his body to Malfoy’s and the hard, slim line of Malfoy’s cock rubbed against his own. He kissed Malfoy more deeply, tugging his head back and biting down on his neck, sucking and licking at every part of exposed skin. He found himself grinding shamelessly as Malfoy responded with equal fervour respond, tugging at his bindings and panting breathlessly, urging Harry for _more_ and _harder_ until – with a shudder and a groan of relief – Malfoy came beneath him.

Harry stepped back for a moment to contemplate Malfoy, bound and flushed and still trying to catch his breath. He saw the momentary look of panic in Malfoy’s eyes and ran his hand over Malfoy’s side, soothing him. The idea that Malfoy might think for a moment that Harry would use this position for malicious purposes left him cold and he found his arousal dampen.

“I’ll let you down.” Harry flicked his wand and released Malfoy’s bindings.

“How kind.” Malfoy’s cheeks held the same pink flush from earlier and he rubbed his wrists, the colour deepening. “It’s been a long time since I came in my pants, Potter. I’ll give you that.”

“It’s not a competition.” Harry cursed his stupid bloody ideas and fantasies as he watched Malfoy rubbing his wrists, unable to meet Harry’s eyes. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, you fool.” Malfoy snorted. He glared at Harry. “But you should have asked. Some people don’t like being tied up.”

“Are you one of them?” Harry held his breath, thinking of Malfoy’s bottles of Elixir and mentions of nightmares. His stomach rolled and he felt queasy and suddenly unsteady on his feet.

“Fortunately for you, I’m not.” Malfoy looked at Harry closely. “You haven’t come.”

“I’m alright.” Harry shrugged. The last thing he wanted to think about now was sex. He knew he would end up thinking about doing things that would disgust any normal person. He couldn’t risk putting himself – or Malfoy – in that position again. He was an inexperienced amateur and he would end up hurting Malfoy in more ways than one if they continued this façade. “I’m going to my room.”

“Fine.” 

When Harry glanced back over his shoulder, Malfoy continued to watch him with an unfathomable gaze.

* * *

“Potter?”

“I’m sleeping.” Harry pulled his pillow over his head and groaned when he heard the snick of his bedroom door being opened. “Go away.”

“I’ve decided I want to try it.” The bed dipped as Malfoy sat next to Harry. “Do your worst.”

“Try what?” Harry pulled the pillow from his head to find Malfoy watching him, amused.

“That kinky stuff that gets you all hot and bothered.” Malfoy smirked. “Did you think I came into your bedroom because I wanted to play another one of those dreadful card games?”

“What the bloody hell are you on about?” Harry moved to sit up and folded his arms, glaring at Malfoy. “I don’t think our last experiment worked so well.”

“Of course you don’t.” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “You probably think you offended my delicate sensibilities with a bit of light bondage.”

“Still, I should have asked.”

“You did, in a manner of speaking.” Malfoy moved to sit next to Harry and propped himself up on the headboard. “Are we going to do it, then?”

“It’s out of the question. We’re supposed to be in hiding.” 

“It seems like as good a time as any to me.” Malfoy turned to face Harry. “I’ve read all of my books and I miss being able to go out and meet people. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Think of it as a bit of fun for both of us. You get to learn something and I get to have sex with something other than my own hand.”

“For fuck’s sake, Malfoy.” Harry’s cheeks heated.

“Well, it’s not a ‘no’.” Malfoy winked and put his hands behind his head. Harry couldn’t help but stare as Malfoy’s shirt lifted to reveal Malfoy’s toned stomach, and he had to pull his eyes upwards to meet Malfoy’s knowing gaze. “I’ve decided my safe-word is going to be Snitch. And you’re not allowed to use _Crucio_ or _Sectumsempra_.”

“ _Crucio_? You’re barmy. Completely barmy.”

“Perhaps.” Malfoy looked heavenward. “Come on then, Potter – I think we should get started.”

“Could we at least discuss this a bit more, before I start casting Unforgivables?” 

“If we must.” Malfoy looked put out and Harry sighed, casting an _Accio_ to Summon his magazines. He dropped them down on Malfoy’s lap, along with a parchment and quill.

“Fine. Go through those. Write down anything you see that appeals, anything that makes you curious and finally anything that you’re pretty sure you’ll never want to do in a million years. I’m not doing anything else until you’re able to tell me exactly what you like.”

“That’s it?” Malfoy looked suspicious, but picked up the quill nevertheless.

“That’s it. I don’t have any intention of having sex with you when you’re asking me not to cast _Crucio_ on you. Bloody hell.” 

Harry settled back and watched with surprise, as Malfoy bowed his head and began to write.

* * *

“Let’s see, then.” Harry held out his hand for the parchment when Malfoy finally stopped writing.

“There’s a few things I’m not sure about.” Malfoy looked doubtful and Harry shrugged.

“Well there’s no rush. I don’t think it’s a good idea to launch into anything.”

“You don’t?” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed and he pulled the parchment back against his chest. “You don’t plan to do anything about this?”

“I do, I just don’t think we should barge in without talking a bit, first.” Harry paused and watched Malfoy carefully. “Perhaps we should get used to being more intimate with one another.”

“How do you suggest we do that?” Malfoy finally handed the parchment across to Harry, who looked at it, feeling his cock twitch in appreciation at some of the things Malfoy seemed to like.

“I wondered if this might do for starters.” Taking a deep breath, Harry tugged Malfoy close to him and kissed him. “I haven’t come yet.”

“No, I noticed that.” Malfoy pulled back with a huff.

“Perhaps you should do something about that?” Harry surprised himself with his gruff tone and he was pleased to see Malfoy shiver. He took Malfoy’s hand and placed it on his trousers, pulling him in for another kiss. “Let’s make this about _me_ , shall we?”

“I knew you were a selfish bastard.” Malfoy smiled against Harry’s lips and unzipped his trousers.

Harry hissed when Malfoy’s slim, cool fingers wrapped around his prick and began to stroke him to full hardness. He thought about the things Malfoy had included on his list, and imagined each one of them as Malfoy twisted his hand on the upward stroke. Harry let Malfoy take his time, pushing him to the edge and then slowing down again and he found his mind filled with images of Malfoy in positions more compromising than the last.

“Malfoy.” Harry placed his hand over Malfoy’s to still his movements as the same shame and guilt welled within him as he wondered why Malfoy would want to do any of this.

“Relax, Potter. Just let go for once, will you? It’s more fun when you do.” 

Malfoy gripped his free hand in Harry’s hair and pulled him into a deep kiss. Malfoy’s hand moved more quickly over Harry’s cock and he finally allowed himself to imagine doing all of the things which Malfoy said he wanted to try. 

“ _Fuck_.” With a low groan, Harry bucked up as Malfoy pulled his orgasm from him. Malfoy pulled his hand back with a smug look on his face and Harry brushed his lips to Malfoy’s ear. “You might want to lick that clean.”

“You, or my hand? Filthy bastard.” His eyes glinting, Malfoy held Harry’s gaze and slid his fingers one by one between his lips, cleaning Harry’s come from his hand.

“Stay here tonight?” Harry twined his fingers with Malfoy’s when he finished and wondered how that question could make Malfoy flush when none of their previous activities had managed it.

For the first time since they had arrived in Cornwall, Harry slept soundly.

* * *

The next day, Harry woke to find a warm body pressed against his back. Malfoy’s fingers traced lines down his chest, which was decidedly less clothed than it had been when he had fallen asleep. Harry could feel the heat from Malfoy’s skin against his own and his cock hardened in appreciation as Malfoy continued to stroke down his chest in a maddening pattern.

“Why am I naked?” Harry turned to face Malfoy who met his question with an innocent smile.

“I didn’t want you to overheat, Potter.” 

“Very considerate.” Harry snorted, but kept Malfoy close nevertheless. He ran his hands down Malfoy’s back and brushed his thumbs over the knobs of his spine. Malfoy was just as hard and full of sharp edges as Harry would have imagined, but his skin was soft and smooth and hot to the touch.

“Did you want to try something else?” Malfoy sounded hopeful and he nodded to the parchment on the bedside cabinet. “Pick something.”

“I’ve already got some ideas.” Harry slid his hand down between them and wound his fingers around Malfoy’s cock. It was hard and already leaking a little at the tip. Harry brushed his thumb over the slit and drew a groan from Malfoy. “Can you try to hold off for me? I want you to _ask me_ before you come and you only can if I give you my permission.”

“Fuck.” Malfoy’s eyelids closed and his cheeks flushed a light pink. “Alright, then.”

Harry reached for the lubricant and put some on his hand, before sliding it along Malfoy’s cock. The cool liquid made Malfoy hiss and buck forwards, as Harry kept his movements steady. Malfoy began to move into Harry’s fist as he quickened his movements and he squeezed his hand around Malfoy, harder.

He raised his other hand to Malfoy’s chest and began to suck lightly at the spot behind Malfoy’s ear, which had worked so successfully last night. He twisted Malfoy’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and groaned as Malfoy shouted out and writhed on the bed.

“Good?”

“You know it is, you bloody git.” Malfoy grimaced and his breath came in ragged puffs and pants. “Please…”

“No, you can wait.” A sense of euphoria overwhelmed Harry as Malfoy begged him and he firmly denied him what he wanted. He continued to tease Malfoy. Pleas – each more urgent than the last – fell from Malfoy’s lips, until when Malfoy was flushed and perspiring and looked as if he couldn’t take much more, Harry spoke. “You can come.”

“Fuck _you_.” With a groan, Malfoy shuddered into his orgasm, letting out a ragged moan when he had finished coming and flopping onto his back, trying to catch his breath. “I bet you loved that.”

“I definitely did.” Harry pressed against Malfoy, finding the sight of him like this breath taking.

“I need a shower.” With a wince, Malfoy stood and picked up his clothes. Without a backwards glance at Harry, he left the room.

Harry stared at the door, which closed behind Malfoy, gulping back a wave of emotion which threatened to overwhelm him. An aching sense of self-doubt niggled at the back of his mind and the side of the bed, which had been so warm a moment ago, was now cold.

He knew he should probably take a shower himself, but he burrowed back under the sheets, which still carried the scent of peppermint and Malfoy’s cologne.

When he woke some hours later, the house was still and Malfoy’s bedroom door was firmly closed.

* * *

“I made coffee.”

“Great – I’ll have a cup.” The next morning, Harry made his way downstairs to find Malfoy leaning against the kitchen counter with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. 

“I’ve decided it was a stupid mistake. I don’t like being your _submissive_ or whatever it’s called.” Malfoy’s lips pressed into a slim line and he seemed angry about something. “I don’t appreciate being the weak one.”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Angry and disappointed, Harry furrowed his brow and tried to ignore the sense of frustration that had been building since the previous night. “You want to do things the other way?”

“No – not in the slightest.” Malfoy shook his head and set his drink down. “Don’t you see? It’s not doing _this_ , it’s doing this with _you_. That’s the problem.”

Harry’s heart constricted at the words and he pushed his coffee and toast away untouched, his appetite gone.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing.” Malfoy gritted his teeth and sat. “You’re just so bloody good – so noble. You already make me feel like I’m worth less than you. The last thing I need is to bring that into my sex life. It’s supposed to be a bit of fun. It’s not fun with you.”

“It sure as hell felt like you were having fun.” Harry got to his feet and sent his chair tumbling to the ground behind him. “Are you saying I made you do something you didn’t want to do?”

“I never said it didn’t feel good physically, you prat. It was…” Malfoy trailed off and shrugged, his cheeks heating. “It’s everything else that comes with it. Being subordinate to you is something I can’t stand. My body can take whatever you want to give – it can crave it, even – but up here, it’s different.” Malfoy tapped his head with his forefinger and watched Harry, his expression unreadable.

“You’re wrong.” Harry spoke slowly in an attempt to gather his jumbled thoughts. “You’re a bloody idiot and you’re _wrong_. Letting me be in charge that way has nothing to do with weakness. It’s all about _strength_. You decide how hard, how far. You can say stop at any point. I’m just the one who doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing but wants to learn to get you – or someone – to that point. You know, the things they talk about in the magazine you took.”

“I didn’t take any of your filthy porn.” Malfoy’s cheeks darkened and Harry growled, slamming his fist on the table.

“You bloody well did, and you know it. What was it they said about that place that people can go to when they do this sort of thing? _That’s_ what I want. Someone who trusts me enough to get them there – who lets me see them let go – and who wants me around afterwards.”

“That was hardly what yesterday was about.” Malfoy sniffed and looked away from Harry. “If I remember, that was all about you. That’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

“Stupid of me.” A choked laugh fell from Harry’s lips. “I thought you might appreciate taking things slowly. Maybe build up that kind of trust in other ways before I take my belt to you and whip you bloody. For fuck’s _sake_. I know I would appreciate easing myself in. Do you know how difficult it is to try to make demands when I don’t have any practical experience of this at _all_?” Harry stopped, as Malfoy had turned to face him.

“You’ve had sex, though. Plenty of times.”

“Not really, no.” Harry breathed out, his body trembling under the verbal onslaught. “I’m really new to all of this – just as I said.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Malfoy watched Harry and then pulled out the chair next to him. “Sit, will you?”

Harry sat and clenched his hands together. “For the record, I never saw you as weak. Not for one moment. I thought it was brilliant, and for a while I thought you did too.”

“It was good.” Malfoy shrugged and pulled the pot of coffee over, pouring them another mug each. “Better than good.”

“What do we do now?” Harry looked up at Malfoy who raised his eyes to the ceiling, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Now we play chess.”

* * *

Later that evening, Harry finally conceded defeat although their final game had been a closely fought battle.

“Check Mate.” Malfoy looked smug and settled back in the armchair. “Finally.”

“You win.” With a laugh, Harry stood and stretched. “Fancy a beer or something?”

“Not just now.” Malfoy stood and reached for Harry’s hand, pulling him close until their bodies connected. “Could we try something else?”

“I thought you didn’t want to do this anymore?” Harry reached into Malfoy’s hair and toyed with the strands, looking at him carefully.

“Perhaps I spoke too soon.” Malfoy smiled and kissed Harry lightly, the touch making him feel warm.

“What were you thinking?”

“Something a little more kinky, perhaps.” Malfoy toyed with the buckle on Harry’s belt and arched his eyebrow. “Something like this.”

“My belt?” Harry’s heart beat quickened and he swallowed thickly, images of Malfoy’s flushed and freshly whipped skin filling his mind. He took a few seconds to collect himself, embarrassed at the way Malfoy’s suggestion affected him. “We could try that if you like.”

“Good. How do you want me?” Malfoy moved away from Harry and looked around the room, his nose wrinkled. “Maybe over the desk or something?”

“That might work.” Harry tried to gather his thoughts and steady his voice, so the next time he spoke his tone was low and commanding and – he hoped – reassuring. “Strip and bend over, with your arms stretched out in front of you.”

“Yes, sir.” Malfoy winked at Harry and then pulled off his clothes. He took his time and revealed himself inch by glorious inch, while Harry found his own trousers began to feel uncomfortably tight at the sight. When he had stripped completely, Malfoy arranged himself over the desk just as Harry had asked. “You don’t have to hold back, you know. I want it to hurt.” 

Harry frowned and slid his hand over the gentle slope of Malfoy’s backside. “We’ll see how we go, shall we?” He slipped his belt from the loops of his trousers and noticed the way Malfoy shivered at the sound of the leather. He thought about some of the things he had read and looped the belt in half to begin.

He brought the belt down on Malfoy’s backside and listened carefully for his reactions, delighted when the first stroke made Malfoy moan into his arms. He brought the belt down again, a couple more times, getting used to the brush of leather over Malfoy’s skin. He resisted doing anything too hard before he had seen how Malfoy reacted to the lighter swipes of leather, pleased when Malfoy began to rock in place and press up for more. His cock pressed uncomfortably against his trousers as he took in the sight of Malfoy bent over and offering his body to Harry. 

“You can use the full belt, Potter. I won’t break.” Malfoy’s voice had an eager and breathless edge to it.

“Patience.” Harry let the belt fall a couple of times in the same light, teasing manner. When he felt Malfoy’s backside had become sufficiently accustomed to the touch, he moved back. He took the belt in his hand and gave it an experimental _thwack_ into the air, the sound going straight to his cock.

“Fucking _hell._ ” Malfoy jumped and twisted his head to the side, his eyes glazed as he watched Harry. 

“I’m just testing.” With a sheepish grin, Harry tested the belt in the air a couple more times, curling it around his hand until he felt he had it just right, wondering if he might come in his pants before he’d even started. He turned to Malfoy and drew a steadying breath, before he brought the belt down over Malfoy’s backside with a hard crack.

“Fuck!” Malfoy jerked in place and hissed, sucking in a sharp breath. “Not that hard. Not yet.”

“Sorry. Okay, I’ll try again.” With a wince, Harry brought the belt down over Malfoy’s backside again. The leather cracked hard against Malfoy’s skin, but without the sharp snap of the previous stroke. It was like nothing Harry could have imagined, despite his hours spent thinking about being in this position. Instead of jumping, Malfoy rocked again and let out a ragged moan and Harry bit his lip to stop himself from answering Malfoy with a groan of his own. 

His breathing faltered and became shallow, as Harry brought the belt down again over Malfoy’s backside, letting the leather fall back and forth. He counted the strokes to himself, both to try not to push Malfoy too far and to stop himself from touching the red marks his belt left on Malfoy’s backside. The only sound in the room was the swish and thwack of leather, Malfoy’s groans and Harry’s own ragged pants. When he reached twelve, Harry stopped. 

“Malfoy?”

“What?” Malfoy’s voice sounded strangled and Harry moved to him, stroking his heated backside gently and trailing his fingers along Malfoy’s spine.

“Are you okay? You did…so well.” Harry murmured the words and dropped the belt down, longing to pull Malfoy into his arms.

“I’m fine.” Malfoy stood stiffly, his eyes still hazy and his cheeks damp with tears. He looked lost and confused, almost as if he was somewhere else instead of in the room with Harry. The motion of standing seemed to clear his head somewhat and he grabbed his clothes, covering his cock, which was aching hard. 

When Harry went to reach for him, Malfoy pulled back, his voice gruff.

“Just give me a moment.”

With that, Malfoy left the room. Harry stayed up for a long time and watched the fire, but the clock ticked past the hours and Malfoy still didn’t return.

* * *

The next day, Malfoy seemed unusually subdued. Harry noted the way he moved stiffly, as if he was in pain and he frowned at the sight of it. After a morning watching Malfoy wince his way around the kitchen, Harry pulled out a chair with a scrape.

“Sit. We need to talk.”

“Bugger off, Potter.” Malfoy took his time making a cup of tea, but eventually he sat in the chair Harry had pulled out, although he still refused to meet Harry’s eyes.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be – I won’t do any of this anymore unless you let me do it properly.” Harry raked his hand through his hair and glared at Malfoy. “You don’t just bugger off to your own room after we’ve done something like that. Consider that a hard limit for me. You let me look after you.”

“You only want to make yourself feel better about everything,” Malfoy muttered, his eyes downcast.

“Perhaps I do. Are you telling me you don’t need it too?” Malfoy’s silence gave Harry the response he needed and he dipped his voice into the deep, firm tone he used when they first started playing. “I want you to go upstairs and strip for me, lie on your front and I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Potter…” Malfoy paused and his eyes widened, his expression panicked. “I can’t take more today.”

“Shush, I know.” Harry ached with guilt and he reached for Malfoy’s hand, squeezing it, meeting his eyes. “I want to do what I should have done last night. Trust me.”

Malfoy still looked wary, but he left the room nevertheless. Harry buried his head in his hands and sat for a moment as he heard Malfoy shuffling around. When the noises stopped, he grabbed some ointment from the potions cupboard and made his way upstairs.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of Malfoy stretched out on the bed. He had placed his arms over his head and his legs parted a little. As Harry approached, he could see the deep mark his first misuse of the belt had left on Malfoy’s skin, and noticed the others seemed to have flared up overnight. 

Harry grabbed a soft cloth and poured ointment onto it, gently beginning to dab around the edges and eliciting a hiss from Malfoy.

“Wait.” Malfoy’s voice sounded strangled and Harry paused in his movements,

“Not gentle enough?”

“It’s not that,” Malfoy snapped. He drew a shaky breath and spoke so quietly Harry had to strain to hear his words. “Just don’t heal them completely. I don’t mind the feeling.”

“Right.” Harry furrowed his brow thoughtfully and continued to dab the ointment over Malfoy’s back. “The marks aren’t very deep, but I think they will still be there for a little while. This will just soothe them a bit and stop any infections.”

“Thank you.” Malfoy relaxed onto the bed. As Harry worked over Malfoy’s back, he noticed that Malfoy seemed to be breathing unsteadily and he could hear him swallowing, as if he was trying to gulp back a wave of emotion.

“Come here.” Harry settled back on the bed when he had finished and held his arms out to Malfoy. He was surprised to find that Malfoy came willingly, clinging to Harry’s shirt and burying his face in his chest. Harry didn’t want to ask if Malfoy was alright, because he wasn’t sure Malfoy would admit to feeling out of kilter even if he did. Instead, Harry held Malfoy closer and kissed his head, closing his eyes and stroking his hair, determined to stay like this for just as long as Malfoy needed.

* * *

The next day, Malfoy seemed to have cheered up and he busied himself making coffee and egg on toast with a few flicks of his wand.

“You realise I’m going to end up like a damned house-elf at this rate?” Malfoy continued to cook nevertheless, sending a plate towards Harry when he finished. “Speaking of which, perhaps you should ask Kingsley if he can source us one. It would make my life a lot easier.”

“How would it make your life easier?” Harry took a mouthful of his eggs and tried not to spit them straight back out again, swallowing the mouthful as quickly as he could manage. “We’ve only had to heat up our food. You’ve cooked once.”

“And it’s bloody awful.” Malfoy spat his own forkful of eggs out into his handkerchief and pushed his plate away. “Why are you eating it, you moron?”

“Because I’m trying to be _polite_.” Harry gritted his teeth and shoved his own plate away. “A moron would be someone who makes scrambled eggs taste worse than Dudley’s socks.”

“I’ve decided I won’t leave if we do that again.” Malfoy scraped the eggs off his toast and took a bite. “I’ll let you look after me if that’s what you need. Just don’t get any ideas. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“No.” Harry’s mood plummeted and he found himself swallowing back a wave of emotion. “I don’t suppose it does.” 

“Do you know what day it is?” Malfoy looked at the calendar in the kitchen and then back at Harry, a small smile playing around his lips.

“Blimey.” Harry looked at the date. “Christmas Eve.”

“Happy holidays.” Malfoy began to clear up the plates, giving Harry a quick smile. “I suppose this is better than spending Christmas with father.”

“Thanks ever so.” Harry rolled his eyes but a wave of sadness washed over him as he thought about the bustling table at the Burrow, full of laughter and chatter and elbows jostling for room. “We should have a proper lunch tomorrow. I’ll send an owl to our Secret Keeper. See if we can’t make a proper day of it.”

“If you like.” Malfoy shrugged and moved past Harry, brushing against his back as he went. “I’m going to take a nap. I’ll see you for dinner.”

Harry watched Malfoy leave and then settled down with his quill and parchment, carefully scratching out a note and trying not to overanalyse whatever it was that he and Malfoy had got themselves into.

* * *

“Merry Christmas, Malfoy.” Harry pushed the present he had gift wrapped the previous night across the table to Malfoy.

“Presents?” Malfoy looked excited and turned it over in his hands. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“I didn’t expect anything. It’s only something small. I thought I might as well ask if I was going to owl about a proper lunch.”

That morning, the Secret Keeper had sent an irate house-elf to the property. The kitchen had soon filled with the sights and smells of Christmas and decorations – mostly green and silver – had been placed around the property. Harry had waited for Malfoy to wake up and had felt warm and happy when he had taken in Malfoy’s reaction to their small tree and happy house, filled with seasonal treats. An intricate gingerbread house stood tall and proud in the dining room, and a couple of bottles of fizz had been placed in the fridge. The turkey had been cooking in the range for the past two hours and everything already smelt delicious. The house-elf had wished Harry a very merry Christmas and had disappeared with a pop, just before Malfoy had arrived. Harry had taken his time making a light breakfast and had poured two tall glasses of champagne, thinking there was no excuse like Christmas morning.

“Still. I shall have to get you something next year.” Malfoy’s nose wrinkled. “Although I hope to Merlin we won’t be here by then.”

“Make the most of it.” Harry felt inexplicably sad at Malfoy’s obvious desire to get away from the small cottage, but with a gulp of his champagne he pushed his feelings to one side.

“Are you going to get horribly pissed?” Malfoy eyed Harry and his lips twitched into a smile.

“I might. What of it?” Harry clinked his glass to Malfoy’s. “Open your present, will you.”

“Fine.” Malfoy tore into the paper and laughed with delight when he saw the two books Harry had purchased. “These are the ones I’ve been waiting for.”

“You said you finished the others, and I saw them advertised on the back cover.” Harry shrugged, pleased he had chosen well.

“It’s perfect.” Malfoy stroked one of the covers of the book and then held it up so Harry could see. “I’d recommend you give them a go. I’d say they’d be right up your street.”

“I might have to do that.” Harry gestured to the breakfast. “Eat up, we’ve got lots to do today.”

“We have?” Malfoy seemed rather happy at the thought and tucked into his food with a contented hum. “Such as?”

“I thought we might play a game. A bit of Truth and Dare?” Harry gestured to the living room. “Lunch will be ready at around three, and we might as well have a bit of fun beforehand.”

“A bit of fun?” Malfoy smiled and brushed his hand along the base of Harry’s spine as they walked to the living room. “I do have something I could give you.”

“You do?” Harry looked at Malfoy who was licking his lips in a way that really should be illegal. “Oh, Merlin.”

“Why don’t you sit down, _Harry_?” Malfoy smirked and let Harry settle on the sofa, before kneeling and moving in between his legs. “Tell me about this game of yours.”

“Well – I thought we could maybe get to know one another a bit better.” Harry paused as Malfoy worked open his jeans and sucked in a breath. “Better than we already do, I mean.”

“I like that idea. Getting to know you better.” Malfoy winked and gave Harry a very Slytherin smile before he reached into Harry’s underpants and released his cock. “Parts of you, at least.” He flicked his tongue over the head of Harry’s cock and Harry couldn’t help but tangle his hand in Malfoy’s hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Saying thank you for my present, naturally.” Malfoy snorted softly, and then with one smooth motion he pressed his lips around Harry’s cock and slid down to take the length of him into his mouth. Harry made a strangled sound at the sensation – new, and utterly divine – as the warm, wet heat of Malfoy’s mouth encased him and made every part of his body alive with pleasure and sensation.

Malfoy moved upwards, slicking Harry’s cock with his saliva. He swallowed and moved down again, until Harry could feel himself pressing against Malfoy’s throat. Not entirely sure of the etiquette, but not particularly caring, Harry thrust up into the warmth of Malfoy’s mouth. The motion drew a moan of appreciation from Malfoy and the vibrations around Harry’s cock made the experience even more pleasurable. He thrust up again, until Malfoy dropped his hand to his own pants, unbuttoning them and groaning again as he wrapped his hand around his cock.

“Don’t come until I say you can.” The command slipped from Harry’s mouth with ease even though his voice was husky and rough. “So bloody _good_.”

Malfoy looked up to meet Harry’s eyes and he felt quite sure that nothing would ever feel as good as watching Malfoy on his knees like this. His hand in Malfoy’s hair had ruffled it, giving Malfoy an unkempt look, which was unfamiliar and enticing. Harry clenched his hand and began to guide Malfoy over his cock, using his mouth to get the most pleasure he could. Malfoy’s willingness to be guided surprised him. He had no doubt from the way Malfoy relaxed his throat and worked his tongue that Malfoy knew exactly what he was doing, but he seemed to respond well to Harry giving him instruction and showing him what he liked.

When Malfoy rubbed his tongue along the underside of Harry’s cock and let out another delicious moan, Harry came undone. He thrust harder into Malfoy’s throat, watching Malfoy’s lips move over his shaft and hearing a series of muffled moans fall from Malfoy’s mouth as Harry took his pleasure. He reached down with his other hand and held Malfoy down for a moment, the sensation of Malfoy choke a little around his cock pushing him over the edge as he came with a shudder down Malfoy’s throat. He released Malfoy and let him sit back to catch his breath, watching as Malfoy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then sucking in a breath as Malfoy leaned forwards to suck the tip of Harry’s cock back into his mouth to clean him. Now sensitive, the motion caused Harry to cry out sharply and he pulled Malfoy up from the floor. 

He pushed Malfoy back onto the sofa and settled over him, working his hand between them. He grasped Malfoy’s cock firmly and stroked him quickly, pressing his lips to Malfoy’s ear.

“Don’t hold back. You can come.”

With a strangled sound, Malfoy nodded and cursed under his breath as Harry twisted his hand and rubbed his thumb over the tip of Malfoy’s cock.

With another couple of firm strokes, Malfoy came with a groan and captured Harry’s lips in a hard kiss. Harry responded with equal fervour, stroking Malfoy to completion and then sliding his sticky hand into Malfoy’s hair with the other. They pressed against one another, with Malfoy’s hands sliding along Harry’s back and they kissed in a way they hadn’t since they had first started doing this. Harry tasted his come on Malfoy’s lips – salty and sticky – and he brushed his lips along the line of Malfoy’s jaw. 

When he eventually pulled back, Malfoy’s once neat hair was tousled and his lips were full and plump, his cheeks flushed a light pink and he looked bloody lovely.

“Merry Christmas.” This time there was no dashing off to their respective rooms and no hurry to shower. Instead, Malfoy’s voice held a light, teasing note and he stretched languidly beneath Harry. “I think my games are better than yours.”

“I think they are.” Malfoy’s words made Harry laugh and he caught his lips in another slow kiss. “You’ll give mine a chance, though?”

“I might as well.” Malfoy smiled against Harry’s lips and nudged him. “We need a shower, then we can play.”

Harry stood with a nod, about to make his way to the shower. A thought occurred to him and he turned back to Malfoy who watched him with an unreadable expression, looking thoroughly debauched. “I don’t suppose you want me to scrub your back?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

“Do you understand why you’re being punished?” Harry’s hand hovered over Malfoy’s backside, which twitched beneath him.

“Yes, sir.” Malfoy’s voice was more subdued than usual and it wavered as he replied. Harry sucked in a breath because this was the first time Malfoy had called him _sir_ without a heavy dose of sarcasm. 

“Because you left the kitchen in such a bloody mess.” 

The kitchen hadn’t been that messy but since Christmas Day, Harry had been keen to find an excuse to try something new. He had expressed his displeasure with the way the house had been kept, and had volunteered – cheerfully – to give Malfoy a spanking.

Malfoy had responded with a groan of appreciation, but now – bent over Harry’s lap – the mood had shifted and Malfoy seemed more uncertain than he had before.

“Just get on with it.” Malfoy spoke through gritted teeth and Harry wondered at it. He didn’t want to do this if it wasn’t good for Malfoy and it certainly seemed as though Malfoy had been enthusiastic about the idea.

“Don’t talk back to me.” Harry brought his hand down with a couple of sharp thwacks and watched Malfoy jerk beneath him. “You’re really in trouble now.” He brought his hand down again, until Malfoy’s arse flushed pink beneath his touch. He could feel Malfoy hard against his thigh and he stroked Malfoy’s backside before letting his hand crack down again, getting into his role. “This is what happens when you make me cross, do you understand?”

“Yes.” Malfoy nearly whimpered as Harry began to spank him in earnest, the heat from Malfoy’s backside spurring him on. “Snitch! S-Snitch.”

“What?” Harry paused and stopped immediately as soon as he heard the word fall from Malfoy’s lips. A rush of fear made his heart beat quicken and he released Malfoy, letting him get onto his feet and then jerkily sit on the sofa, his head in his hands.

Harry swallowed as he realised Malfoy’s shoulders were shaking and he placed a tentative hand on one of them, as if to steady him. A deep sense of shame and confusion consumed him. The spanking certainly hadn’t been as hard as the twelve strikes of his belt, and Harry couldn’t understand why Malfoy had reacted this way to one of the more tame forms of play, given some of the things Malfoy had expressed an interest in.

“Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?” Malfoy spoke with a gulp and rubbed his hands over his face, scrubbing at it until Harry pulled his hands away and knelt in front of him, looking at him closely.

“I can imagine it might be.” Harry thought of Malfoy bent over his knee, with his long legs dangling off his thighs and his body awkwardly placed on the sofa. “You don’t like it. Because of the position?”

“No, you idiot.” Malfoy looked up, his eyes angry. “I don’t like being _punished_ \- it makes me feel small and weak and everything I hate feeling. I don’t want to be punished by you – not when we’re having sex. Not when it’s supposed to feel _good_. If you’re angry about something then let me talk to you face to face – let me be an adult too, not a recalcitrant child.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry swallowed and cupped Malfoy’s cheek with his hand and leaned in to kiss him softly, before pressing their foreheads together. “Would you prefer that if it was a reward? Would you prefer it if I praised you? I don’t want to seem like a patronising arse.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Malfoy snorted softly but seemed to relax. When he spoke, his voice was small. “If I’m letting you do those kinds of things to me, a bit of praise wouldn’t hurt, you know. My arse is stinging.”

“No punishments, then. We’re agreed that’s not how we’ll do this.” Harry stood and sat next to Malfoy, pulling him into his arms. He trailed his hand to the small of Malfoy’s back and murmured in his ear. “Do you want me to make it better?”

“You couldn’t make it much worse,” Malfoy muttered.

“Don’t make me feel more of a git than I already do.” Harry huffed and stood, tugging Malfoy onto his feet. “And come to bed with me.”

“I suppose I’ll have to.” Malfoy followed Harry nevertheless and settled onto his bed. He stretched out and his eyes regained their usual glint of challenge, as he shifted his legs apart a little and eyed Harry. “There’s something we _could_ do to make it better.”

“Oh?” The sight of Malfoy like that left Harry rather breathless, and he pulled off his trousers, socks and jumper, getting onto the bed with Malfoy. “What do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking something along the lines of being fucked into the mattress.” Malfoy gave Harry the same challenging look and the corner of his lips curved into a smile. “Assuming you know how.”

“Of course I know how.” Harry glared at Malfoy and reached into the drawer for his lubricant, his heart beat quickening. “I’m not entirely inept.”

“I’m sure you’ve read about it lots.” Malfoy rolled his eyes and then reached to still Harry’s hand. “I know you like to be in charge, Potter but will you let me do the talking just this once?”

“I wasn’t aware I ever stopped you from doing the talking.” Harry grinned at the thought and then nodded. “But you can tell me – if I cock it up.”

“Thanks so much.” Malfoy rolled his eyes and settled back. With his heartbeat quickening, Harry slipped his slick fingers into the crease of Malfoy’s backside. He took his time, rubbing his fingers over Malfoy’s hole and ensuring there was plenty of lubrication. After a moment, he worked one finger inside Malfoy and groaned at the tight heat.

“Fuck me.”

“The other way round, actually.” Malfoy rocked back against Harry’s finger, as Harry pumped it slowly in and out of Malfoy feeling him relax just a little. He worked a second finger inside Malfoy and watched as Malfoy’s lips parted and his legs spread further apart. He was sure he had read somewhere that three fingers would stretch someone enough but before he could add a third, Malfoy batted his hand away and spoke in a rough tone. “That’s enough – use plenty of lube.”

“Are you sure?”

“Get _on_ with it, Potter.” Malfoy arched his back and spoke through gritted teeth. “You don’t have to be such a gentleman about the fact you’re about to put your cock up my arse.”

“Right then.” Harry couldn’t help but laugh at Malfoy’s words and he aligned his cock with Malfoy’s hole. With one deep thrust he found himself buried in Malfoy’s tight heat, the sensation almost making him come on the spot. “ _Merlin_.”

“Move, dammit.” Malfoy clenched around Harry, almost pushing him over the edge again and Harry complied.

He thrust slowly at first, shifting his angle as Malfoy instructed until he clearly found just the right spot. As Malfoy gripped his cock in his hand and began to fist it, Harry’s own movements became more erratic. He felt Malfoy coming beneath him and the feeling of Malfoy clenching hard around him as he came, was enough to push Harry over the edge.

He pulled out of Malfoy after catching his breath and kissed him slowly.

“Was it alright?”

“More than.” Malfoy turned his head on the pillow and ran his fingers down Harry’s arm. “I’m too shagged out to move.”

“Then don’t.” Harry pulled Malfoy close and tugged the duvets around them both. “Stay in here with me tonight.”

“Alright, then.” Malfoy closed his eyes, a sleepy smile on his face. “If you insist.”

* * *

“Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Harry woke to the sound of clattering from downstairs and groaned, dropping his hand over his eyes. With a sigh, he got out of bed and pulled on his jeans and a jumper, making his way downstairs.

“Harry, mate. There you are.” With a laugh, Ron wrapped his arms around Harry in an enthusiastic hug and clapped him hard on the back.

“Ron?” Harry pulled back and saw Malfoy standing next to Kingsley, his face expressionless.

“Looks like we’re free of this place.” Malfoy smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Whoever those Death Eaters were that have been trying to kill you, they’re all safely locked up in Azkaban. We’re free to go.”

“Sorry it took so long. One of them was a slippery bugger.” Ron grimaced and shook his head. “We thought we had him, but he kept getting away from us. No surprises really.”

“What was surprising was one of our junior Aurors was involved. Longbottom’s partner, Smith.”

“Neville’s okay, though?” Harry looked at Shacklebolt for confirmation, and he nodded.

“He’s fine. I think he’s had enough of all this, though. He said he was going to see if there might be a position for him at Hogwarts. Something to do with plants.”

“Herbology Professor.” Harry laughed. “I can see that.” 

“Wonderful. What delightful news.” Malfoy’s lips pursed and he looked around the cottage. “I’m free to go?”

“It was hardly a prison, Malfoy.” Harry met Malfoy’s eyes and a spark passed between them.

“For the most part it wasn’t.” Malfoy’s expression smoothed and he contemplated Harry. “I’ll see you around, Potter.”

“Wait!” 

But before Harry could reach for Malfoy, he was gone.

* * *

**29 December 2010 – Hogsmeade**

“I should thank you for the Christmas present.” 

The skin on the back of Harry’s neck prickled and he had to steady himself for a moment, before he turned to meet Malfoy’s gaze. 

“I should thank you for yours. I’m not sure it was meant to be opened in public.” Harry’s lips tugged into a slow smile.

“No, perhaps not.” Malfoy smirked and arched an eyebrow at Harry. “Did you enjoy the magazines.”

“You know I did.” Harry rolled his eyes and took in the sight of Malfoy. He had put on a little weight over the last year although he still looked slimmer than most. He wore Muggle clothes instead of Wizarding robes, his long winter coat reaching down to his knees and a green Slytherin scarf wrapped around his neck. His long fingers were covered in expensive black leather gloves and his black brogues were damp from the snow outside. “You look well.”

“And you.” Malfoy ran his fingers over the spine of one of the books and avoided Harry’s gaze. “I hear you’ve been getting some experience since we last saw one another.”

“You could say that.” Harry shrugged. “It’s all been pretty casual. I’ve been finding out a bit more about what works for me. I’ve had some good friends who have been able to show me the ropes, so to speak.”

“I see.” Malfoy turned to Harry and dropped his hand down to his side. “I saw a few Muggles again when we got back from the cottage. Can’t say it did a lot for me.”

“Really?” Harry swallowed. “I can understand that. Something missing, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Malfoy agreed. He reached his hand out and brushed his fingers against Harry’s arm. “Fancy a drink?”

“Why not?” Harry nodded and put down the book he had been thinking of purchasing. He walked with Malfoy to the Three Broomsticks. He stamped his feet to get rid of the snow and made his way to the bar. “What can I get you?”

“Just find a seat. I’ll get these.” Malfoy gestured to a nearby seat, which was out of the way of the crowds in the bar. Harry settled into the comfortable booth and waited for Malfoy who eventually approached with two piping hot glasses with thick handles.

“Mulled wine. I thought it might suit, given the weather outside.”

“Perfect.” Harry took his mug, wrapping his hands around it for warmth. He contemplated Malfoy for a moment before speaking. “It was a bit daft to think it could just be a bit of fun with our history, don’t you think?”

“It was definitely naïve,” Malfoy agreed. “I haven’t done any of that stuff since, for what it’s worth. Not the sex. The other stuff.”

“I know what you mean.” Harry nodded and sipped his wine. “Because it doesn’t appeal?”

“To the contrary.” Malfoy took his own sip of wine and paused in his reply. “I haven’t found someone I trust. I doubt I’m likely to find anyone I’d be happy to use _Incarcerous_ on me, with the way people still feel about my family.”

“And your Muggles?” Harry held his breath.

“Well, they could hardly cast a spell could they?” Malfoy snorted and then settled back to meet Harry’s gaze. “Besides, I’ve had enough of pretending to be someone else. If one more person asks me where I got my ‘cool’ tattoo, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

“Of course.” Harry bit back a smile when he noticed the way Malfoy clutched his forearm momentarily. “It’s not the sort of thing you can explain to a Muggle. Not unless you’re serious, in any event.”

“Not really.” Malfoy shook his head. “I stopped taking the potions a few months ago. I thought you should know.”

“You did?” Harry furrowed his brow and reached for Malfoy, unable to stop himself from twining their hands together. “I thought you had to take them to stop the nightmares and things.”

“I’m coping.” Malfoy shrugged and his gaze focused on their hands linked together. “I found myself somewhere else to live. A flat in Hogsmeade. It makes things easier.”

“Funny, I’ve been thinking of selling Grimmauld Place for similar reasons.” Harry looked at Malfoy curiously. “Will you show me?”

“My flat?” Malfoy nodded, his expression smooth and unreadable. “I don’t see why not.”

“After we’ve finished our drinks?”

“Yes,” Malfoy replied, squeezing Harry’s hand. “After that.”

* * *

“I like it.” Harry looked around the flat, which was as large as he would have expected but less opulent than he had imagined it might have been. The furnishings were muted, in creams and deep chocolate browns, and Malfoy had put a couple of oil paintings of family members in the hallway, which gazed down on anyone entering the house.

The living room was warm, with a large log fire crackling in the hearth and a number of cushions flung carelessly on the sofa to give the place a somewhat cosier feel. A desk, rather like the one Malfoy had been so keen on in Cornwall, stood at the far end of the room. The alcove where the desk sat had numerous tall bookcases within the three walls, housing a number of books from the romances Malfoy enjoyed to more academic fare, bound in leather.

“I’ve only been here for a while and there’s still work to be done, but it’s getting there.” Malfoy brushed his fingers over the desk and smiled, as if remembering something. “Parts of it are starting to feel like home.”

“That’s good.” Harry took a breath and moved behind Malfoy. He wrapped his arms around his waist and breathed in his scent. “It’s like the one in our cottage.”

“Isn’t it?” Malfoy leaned back against Harry and made no move to disentangle himself. “There was a time when I couldn’t wait to get out of that place. Now I’m trying to bring bits of it back.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Harry pulled back and allowed Malfoy to turn in his arms, meeting his gaze. “Getting something back?”

“That, and finding something I lost.” Malfoy pressed closer to Harry. “I know you tried to reach me after we got back. Mother said you came round to the Manor a few times. That can’t have been easy for you.”

“It wasn’t too bad. At least your dad didn’t answer the door.” Harry shrugged and rubbed his hand along the base of Malfoy’s spine. “I didn’t give up. I just thought I should give it time. Perhaps sort things out in my own head for a while.”

“And have you?” Malfoy leaned closer to Harry.

“I think so.” Harry nodded and closed the distance between them. The kiss was both familiar and not. Malfoy had lost a little of his cocky swagger and bluster, and his kisses – like his tone – were more muted and serious. Harry too found his own approach to be full of confidence, without the tentative nerves that had so crippled him when they had first started exploring together.

“I missed you, Potter.” Malfoy broke the kiss first and his voice held something of the edge it had over a year ago. “Merlin only knows why. I wasn’t fond of finding out that you had been enjoying yourself without me.”

“Just as I didn’t much like thinking about you and those Muggle blokes of yours.” Harry felt a rush of jealousy as he thought about the faceless men touching Malfoy – fucking Malfoy. “I don’t like to share. I know that much about myself.”

“Funny.” Malfoy’s eyes glinted and his lips curved into a smile. “Neither do I.”

Harry slipped his hand into Malfoy’s hair. “Fancy showing me the rest of the place?”

“I don’t know.” Malfoy looked back at the desk and pulled Harry closer. “I’m actually quite comfortable here.”

“Me too,” Harry agreed, before pulling Malfoy close and kissing him again, just because he could.

* * *

**Christmas Eve 2012 – Godric’s Hollow**

“That’s it. You’re doing so well.” Biting back a groan, Harry took in the sight of Draco bent over the desk in their living room. His arms were stretched out ahead of him and bound together at the wrist with one of Harry’s old Gryffindor ties. He was completely naked save for two bottle green cuffs on his wrists. His backside was striped with the lines from the cane Harry currently held in his hand. He rubbed it slowly along Draco’s backside, eliciting a whimper. “Just five more. Good boy.”

“Yes, Sir.” With a groan, Draco pressed his backside up in offering and Harry brought the cane down with a swish, watching as it connected sharply with Draco’s backside. He could see from the way Draco tried to jerk away that he was close and he took his time with the final four strikes.

When he had finished, Harry dropped the cane down carefully and stroked his hand over Draco’s back. “Come here.”

“More…” Draco groaned and pressed back and Harry shook his head, pulling Draco up and into his arms.

“No more. Steady now, I’ve got you.” He took in the hazy look in Draco’s eyes and kissed him gently, helping him over to the sofa and settling him down in his lap. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, as they were both of a similar height. Draco had said he felt utterly stupid the first time Harry had tried to pull him into his lap – all legs and elbows, and sharp edges.

“Harry.” 

“I’m right here.” Harry kissed Draco’s head and held him close, letting him settle. He flicked his wand and called over one of the presents he had purchased for Draco. He opened it up and pulled out the slim collar, which matched the cuffs Draco wore on his wrists. They had chosen the cuffs together and at the time, Harry had seen Draco eyeing the collars with interest. He had pretended not to notice and had gone back one weekend when Draco had been working away, to get the collar, which matched the cuffs Draco had selected.

“I’m totally knackered.” Draco yawned and shifted in Harry’s lap with a wince. “I might need some of that ointment.”

“No problem.” Harry laughed, knowing full well how that usually ended. “I had something to give you first.”

“A present?” Draco perked up and cracked one eye open.

“Yes, a present.” Harry smiled and Draco shifted from Harry’s lap. “Come on, then.” He held his hands out eagerly and Harry shook his head fondly.

“I took the liberty of opening it.”

“Well that’s no fun.” Draco looked at the collar and trailed off, reaching out for it and then pulling his hand back as if Harry might snatch it away. “Who’s that for?”

“For you, you daft sod.” Harry handed it to Draco and watched as he turned it over in his hands. “I know you won’t be able to wear it all the time. I don’t expect you to. Just sometimes when we’re at home and _always_ when we play. Would you?”

“Is this your way of letting me know that I _belong_ to you?” Draco’s lips twitched into a smile, and he looked up at Harry. “It works both ways for me – you understand that?”

“I know.” Harry nodded and reached out to fasten the collar around Draco’s neck, watching how his eyelids fluttered under the touch. “I thought you might like it.”

“I do. Very much.” Draco leaned forward with a smile and kissed Harry. “I think we should go to bed.”

“Do you want to keep this on?” Harry stood with Draco and trailed his fingers over the back of his neck where the collar was buckled closed. Sometimes Draco slept in his cuffs and when Harry asked why, he had told him – after much prodding – that they helped him settle if he woke up after a bad dream. They both still had those sometimes, and would turn to one another in the darkness, holding onto each other tightly until they were able to drift off to sleep again.

“Just for tonight.” Draco nodded and stretched out on his front, looking up at Harry as he took the ointment from the bedside cabinet. “Maybe for tomorrow, too.”

“We’re going to the Burrow tomorrow.” Harry’s eyes widened and Draco smiled, his eyes glinting with mirth.

“I know.”

“Then why the bloody hell would you want to wear that?”

“I’d like to see Weasley’s face.” Draco hummed with contentment as Harry began to apply the ointment and smiled, his voice heavy with sleep. “I’ll tell him you have a leash for it too. I wonder if I could make him turn as red as his hair?”

“Don’t you _dare_.” Harry swatted Draco on the backside and outside, the snow began to fall.

_~Fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave a comment here or [on Livejournal](http://hd-erised.livejournal.com/16543.html).


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